Past Perfect
by svirna
Summary: As a Master of Death Harry is reborn in the marauders era and enjoys the kind of life he's always wanted growing up in a loving home. But as the time nears for the marauders to start Hogwarts, Harry is assailed by doubts. What if he changed things for worse? No pairing as yet.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1. The Hagels.

"That's a pretty morbid fascination you're developing".

As usual, the strong aroma of whiskey alerted Harry to Eugene's presence well before he plopped next to him at the paddock railing. Ironic, really, Harry thought. Eugene Morley was the only adult in Harry's new (and improved) life that never drank any kind of alcohol. It was one of Eugene's duties as his father's stable hand to serve Abrahan horses with large quantities of single malt every morning. As a result he forever reeked of spirits as much as Mundungus Fletcher had ever done. Not for the first time Harry wondered whether the man's rigidly proper, well-born wife found that irksome. Paula Morley, nee Churwell was the estate's magical creatures' healer.

"Thestrals _are_ fascinating", Harry pointed out.

"Yes, well, _you_ can't even see them, kid", lately Eugene had taken to calling Harry 'kid' to his everlasting embarrassment.

As a matter of fact, Harry had been able to see the creatures ever since he woke up on his eleventh birthday suddenly remembering his whole "other" life. Back then his parents attributed his shell-shocked demeanour to worries over the Hogwarts letter. The letters were usually sent the beginning of August they reasoned; there was no cause to be anxious. Truth to be told, his father was a bit impatient with the whole reassurance routine. Harry's accidental magic kicked in before he even started to walk. Any lingering doubts they could have were dispelled once and for all when he fell into a friendly conversation with a cobra in a muggle Zoo in Berlin. Parseltongue ability had always run in the Hagel family. Julius, Harry's grandfather was one too, but it skipped the generation in between. Much as Martin Hagel was proud of his so obviously gifted eldest son he couldn't help wishing these gifts were distributed more evenly between his children. By the time Harry got his letter his brother Ralf was eight and had yet to display a single spark of magic. Now, at ten, everyone pretty much accepted that the boy was a squib.

"What with the brooding, anyway?" Eugene persisted. "Ralf is supposed to be the Pombrook's resident introverted loner".

"Ralf never broods," objected Harry. "He's far too intense for something so unproductive."

Though that was no longer the truth, Harry was startled to realise. As scary smart and gifted mathematically, as Ralf was, his brother was forever immersed in some project or another, but lately he had taken to exhausting himself physically with elaborate exercise routine as well as traversing the sprawling estate on horseback. Not the most obvious occupations for a ten year old, even a genius one, Harry conceded.

Though the brothers were fairly close, (as close as brothers could be with three years between them, Harry supposed) they never once discussed Ralf's apparent lack of magic. The younger boy never complained or showed signs of resentment, but the unfairness of it all must have finally got to him.

Harry sighed. If he was of no use to his baby brother, how could he hope to right the wrongs of his previous life?! In a few short days Lily and the marauders would start Hogwarts, a development would put them on the collusion course with Voldemort. In a few short days the new chapter of his life would begin. He had two years to prepare for that moment and right now he felt like he'd wasted them. He felt woefully unprepared.

Thanks to the whole Master of Death thing he was given a chance to start anew and save all those lives lost in the two wars. Back then he had snatched at the opportunity determined to save all those he had failed, arrogant in the belief his knowledge would prove an unbeatable secret weapon. Now he was wandering whether the offer hadn't been a poisoned chalice.

He was still a Parseltongue, a half-blood, and as soon as he'd been allowed to, he purchased his old holly and phoenix feather wand back. He was magically talented, and his family was both wealthy and well connected. Yet he felt sadly inadequate. He didn't know how much his mere presence in this timeline would alter the subsequent events. Would James and Lily still have a son named Harry? The idea alone weirded him out, until he gave up on that particular question. Still the whole issue of the Prophesy kind of depended on his birth.

Should he interfere with his former parents' friendships? If so, how? There was no way he could measure or predict the ways his interference would change the whole landscape of the Resistance movement, was there? And what of Dumbledore? Harry never seriously considered confessing the whole business to the old Headmaster, but he was still undecided about joining the Order of the Phoenix. On one hand, he thoroughly disliked the idea of submitting once again to the old codger's questionable leadership. On another, Dumbledore _was_ the leader of the Light, and Harry knew better than anyone the dangers of shouldering the entire weight of the world alone. Beside which, Lily and the marauders would almost certainly join Dumbledore's merry band. Harry would have a much better chance of saving them if he were a comrade-in-arms.

And finally, the thorniest issue of all, one that could prove his undoing in this life as it was in the other one. The Horcruxes. At the moment Hurry could only be reasonably sure of the ring's whereabouts. Nigini was probably not even made into a Horcrux yet. Harry's greatest fear was that his presence in this time would somehow prompt Riddle to create a different Horcrux, or hide the existent ones in different locations. Without the advantage of his prior knowledge Harry would be powerless to stop him. His second attempt at defeating the Dark Lord would prove even less successful than the first one in that case.

"Is Ralf up anyway?" Harry queried.

"Saw him riding Loki about an hour ago. Probably be back already. You should have some breakfast, or Nutty'll immolate herself on the kitchen stove."

"Right."

Harry has long since concluded that Nutty used self-punishment the same way muggles use emotional blackmail. Whenever his French mother tried to introduce some continental delicacy to their menu Nutty managed without fail to botch it spectacularly only to make a subsequent show of contrition and punishment. Martin, his father, usually avoided the resulting commotion by simple expedient of hiding in his study, but Marie, a gentle hearted muggleborn invariably ended up distressed and disturbed. In fact, Harry often thought that the elf bullied his mother mercilessly, since any attempt on Marie's part to do cooking herself ended up in even more disgusting theatrics, with Nutty wailing and howling and begging not to give her cloths despite her apparent uselessness. Marie actually liked cooking now and again but only had a chance to do so when they visited with her French muggle family or stayed at Eisenschoss with Grandfather (Julius's elves being far too disciplined to guilt trip humans.)

Even worse in Harry's opinion was Nutty's attitude towards Ralf. Marie chose to call it 'overprotective', but that was far too charitable. Harry thought even 'controlling' was putting it mildly. Though she was bound to obey Ralf as much as she was the rest of the family, Nutty was forever finding loopholes and excuses to smother the boy with unnecessary magic. Or simply ignored the orders she deemed wrong, and then made the poor boy squirm with ostentatious displays of burned ears or bandaged hands. Harry could see how the whole thing set Ralf's teeth on edge, but there was little he could do to alleviate the situation. Nutty was after all a very sly elf, and she had long since decided that her young master was to be protected. Short of giving her cloths there was no stopping her now, Harry supposed. He was just glad that for whatever reason she never interfered with him, even when the dangerous duo – Fabian and Gideon Prewetts came to visit. Dexter and Sinister intercepted Fab when he tried to steal one of Father's Abrahan horses for a ride, and Sinister kept vigil at the Thestral paddock, whenever the twins were in residence, but Nutty only cleaned their rooms and did their laundry while otherwise paying them no heed. Seeing how she never once forewent the opportunity to badger poor Ralf, Harry knew himself to be fortunate.

"Master Harry, Miss Audrey is calling. Is you at home?"

"I am now" grumbled Harry. Sinister would have put Lena off so that Harry would have a room for manoeuvre, but Dexter was the most straight shooting elf in existence. Either that or he didn't want to give Harry a chance to skip the call. Suddenly Harry recalled some of his house mates' tales of match-making elves and shuddered with horror.

"Coming," he yelled.

"Finally. Did you get lost on the grounds?" Lena Audrey, a chaser and the Gryff's team captain quired in what she clearly thought was a playful manner. For some reason Lena thought that teasing Harry about his family fortune and status was cute. Harry thought it was anything but, especially since his captain started lately to conflate teasing and flirting. She was a pretty girl, but at thirteen Harry had yet to take notice of fairer sex. Besides Lena was two years older and far too much interested in the Pombrook estate for Harry's taste.

"To what do I owe the honour?" Harry settled on the stone floor in front of the fireplace.

"Seen the Prophet today?"

"No, why?" Harry frowned. "Has something happened?" Lena was more exited than upset, so he figured it couldn't be that bad.

"The Germans have just unveiled a shiny new Perseus model! Lena handed him the paper.

The entire page was occupied by a picture of a strong-jawed wizard fondling a spectacular racing broom. The lettering read Perseus-Sieg.

Harry shrugged. As good as it looked it was no Firebolt.

"Um, what of it?" he asked.

Lena huffed impatiently:

"You should bully your dad into buying it! We'll be unstoppable with this beauty".

Harry rolled his eyes. "My Nimbus is the last year model," he said. "There is no way I can justify such request."

Lena pouted and seemed ready to argue but thought better of it. "Just think of it, OK?" she asked instead. "Do you think your Dad would agree to sponsor the Rivers kid for a decent Comet?"

Ok, so that must have been the real reason for call.

Rivers was a fourth year reserve chaser. A pretty talented one, from what Harry could see from the try-outs, but as a muggle-born his family balked at spending a small fortune on frivolities like racing brooms.

"I'll ask", Harry promised.

"Thanks. Call me when you know one way or another," Lena instructed. "I'll need to know before the try-outs."

"Fine", Harry ended the call and went to the breakfast parlour.

Marie and Ralf, early risers, were not in evidence. Martin was on his second cup of coffee and deep into the Prophet.

"Morning", Harry helped himself to kedgeree.

Martin nodded his greetings.

"Why didn't you invite Lena over?" his father asked. "You haven't taken the Nimbus for an exercise in ages."

"Just a few days," Harry said defensively. Ever since the twins had left for that Mexico trip with their parents, in fact. "It was a business call anyway."

"Oh?"

"She asked whether you'd be up to buying a Comet for our possible new chaser."

"Has she asked McLaggen?"

Wulfric Mclaggen was a year older than Harry, and a keeper. His folks would be a more obvious choice, since they were both Quidditch mad and wealthy, whereas neither Martin, nor Marie could boast of any talent on a broom. Martin had always maintained that no broom could possibly compare to a winged horse.

"Wulfric is not that keen on helping Rivers," Harry explained. "His best mate hopes to make the team."

"Hmm…" Martin flicked a page to admire the German ad. "Why a Comet? I made sure she'd want this new Perseus."

"Her idea was a Perseus for me, and a Comet for Rivers", Harry clarified.

Martin snorted. "How about you tell her I'll buy a Nimbus to whoever outflies everyone else at the try-outs."

"Thanks, Dad."

Suddenly Sinister materialised at Martin's elbow holding a heavily embroidered formal robe.

"Are you going to the Ministry?" Harry was surprised. The Wizengamot was still in recess. In fact, even when it was in session Martin went there only sporadically. Martin's mother was the last Pomprington, and along with the Pomprington estate he inherited their hereditary seat in the assembly. Yet, for all his lofty social standing his father had but little taste in politics, preferring staying in Wales instead and breeding muggle and magical horses. He'd had a brief stint as an Auror after Hogwarts, but it hadn't taken long for Marie to convince him to retire.

"Yes, Barty wants to run something by me", he said. "Well, I am off. Get some exercise, Harry, or you'll soon look like a vampire in a muggle cartoon."

Wondering what the aggressive new head of the Law Enforcement could possibly want with his father, Harry finished his breakfast and went back to the fireplace. Lena answered immediately.

"Dad says he'll splurge for a Nimbus for the new chaser," Harry informed her.

"What about that Perseus?"

"What about it? Don't be greedy, Lena. We'll still have three Nimbuses on the team." The third one being McLaggen's.

"Couldn't you hit your grandfather for a start-of-the-year present?"

"Your lack of patriotism is disturbing," Harry was getting rapidly fed up with the conversation. "Right, I've got to be off," he lied.

"OK, OK; just think about it. See you soon."

"Speaking of brooms, how come you never fly anymore?" Harry whirled around to greet his brother.

Eugene, surely the most erudite stable hand in history, always maintained that Ralf looked exactly like Caligula. In point of fact, except for the blond tresses he inherited from Marie, Ralf looked every inch a Hagel he was. He sported the same strong chiselled features and slate grey eyes as did Martin, Julius and, judging by the portraits at Eisenschloss, most of the Hagels throughout centuries.

Harry himself, though inherited certain of his parents' traits, ended up looking like no one in the family. Instead of bright emerald of his former life, his eyes were paler, colder shade of green this time around. (Though it never looked cold on Marie.) He got his father's and grandmother's Pomprington raven black hair. There was a hint of the Hagel ancestry in the line of his jaw, but overall his features were softer, less finely defined than his father's and brother's. Ever since his eleventh birthday Harry had fancied that he could discern traces of his former self in this new face. And though he was taller than before, Harry was still scrawnier than most Hagel males. Even at ten his nerdy brother had a built of an athlete. _He'd be a great beater,_ Harry mused, admiring Ralf's frame… only to immediately feel guilty at the thought.

"Just a few days," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, ever since the twins had left." Ralf plopped on a windowsill. "I hope it's not on my account, by the way," he said. "If you want to be all sensitive and considerate, ride with me the muggle way."

"What is it, a family intervention?" Harry huffed indignantly.

"Might as well be," Ralf shrugged. "Mum thinks you're depressed, and Nutty's convinced you helped the Terrible Twins to commit some unspeakable crime."

"When I commit an unspeakable crime she'll be first to know," Harry grumbled.

"When you do, be a sport, and let me help."

"It's a deal."

There was a brief pause, when Harry did nothing, and Ralf petted his raven. Gordon (named after Byron, but in a less obvious way, Ralf insisted) was an unquestionably magical pet. That it had showed up at the estate couple of years ago and attached itself specifically to Ralf was taken by the family as a hopeful sign. Until Marie voice her hopes aloud only for Ralf to point out that squibs often had kneazles for pets.

"So what is it?" Ralf persisted. "Have you fallen in love? Discovered you're queer? Acquired debts of honour?"

Suddenly Harry was sized by the urge to confess Ralf everything. Lately he felt positively quashed by his commitments; his anxiety was rapidly becoming a full blown panic. Should his prior knowledge prove useless, what then? He was nowhere near as intelligent as Dumbledore… or Ralf. If only he could confide in his genius brother… No, Harry gave himself a mental shake. No one could possibly believe such a story, certainly not someone with a penchant for logical and rational thinking. Well, Hermione might have, but she had been… what a witch? Merlin's pants, was he turning into a bigot? Harry found himself staring in his brother's concerned grey eyes.

"You'd think I've gone nuts if I told you," Harry said quietly.

"Really. I'd be more likely to end up as a nutter," Ralf said conversationally. "In fact, mum's afraid I've got Asperger's".

"She _was_ afraid you had Asperger's a few years ago," Harry said irritably. "You're alright now."

"Well, you are not. What gives?"

Harry felt like his old reckless self. Well, better reckless, than the Dumbledore's way, he reasoned. 'Secrets and lies', Aberforth had called it. Harry had had enough of that for a lifetime. Seeing as it was his second one… He made a decision. He needed someone to share his knowledge. Too many risks were involved into confiding in former/future Order members. And it would be way too weird to tell his parents that he'd been other peoples' son. Ralf though… Even now, at ten, he was smarter and more knowledgeable than Harry. In time he could prove as much of an assert as Hermione had been. And he _was_ his brother; Harry knew he could always count on him. Assuming he wouldn't think Harry was clinically insane, that was.

"Let's go to the beach," Harry finally suggested. "You'll have to promise you won't try to have me sent to St. Mungo's though. And if you tell anyone, I'll commit that unspeakable crime after all."

"Deal. Why don't you give me a ride?"

"What, on a broom?" Harry was taken aback at the suggestion. Ralf had never had displayed any interest in broomsticks before.

"Well, as Father won't let us near Grace…" Grace being Martin's favourite winged mare.

"Nutty'll have a coronary…" Harry cautioned.

"One can hope."

"Yes, let's do it!" Harry grinned.

When they landed on the western terrace several hours later they were greeted by the sight of a harassed Marie applying the essence of dittany to what looked like fresh burns on Nutty's chest.

"Nutty is sorry!" the elf declared tragically, as she glared at Harry. "Nutty was too busy cleaning, she didn't known master Ralf needed to apparate."

The creature turned her reproachful gaze at the blond boy, but Ralf was too preoccupied by the recent revelations to notice.

"Nutty will bath in the magical bleach to punish her more," the elf added menacingly.

"Suit yourself," Harry muttered.

"Harry" Marie admonished. "There is no need for you to punish yourself," she said to Nutty. "Harry is a good flyer; they were never in danger."

"Master Ralf is a good boy," the elf pursued. "He is not one for mischief, not him! Not like those red-haired ruffians!" The elf took a deep brief and increased the volume so that Martin would hear her in his study. "Nutty knows where the fire-peppers gone, she does! And the Goblin-wrought cauldron! Master Ralf needs not to be drawn in your schemes, master Harry!"

That finally roused Ralf.

"Shut up, Nutty," he snapped.

"Oooow!" the elf wailed. "Nutty knows she is not young, like Dexter and Sinister, she knows she is not a fit company for young masters... She –"

"I hate to interrupt," Harry lied, "but Ralf and I could use some supper. What with spending the entire day outdoors…"

"Supper is served in a half an hour," Nutty said resentfully. "Nutty knows when she is not wanted…"

With that the elf apparated with a deafening bang, presumably to prepare supper.

"They say the Blacks behead their elves when they become too annoying", Harry offered.

"You are so not helping," Marie was massaging her temples irritably.

"Do I detect a hint of wistfulness in your voice?" Ralf teased.

"Stop it, you two! Besides, it's your fault. You should have had Sinister to distract her, before taking off like that."

"Sorry," Harry was genuinely contrite. "Didn't occur to us."

"Well, it should have!" Marie said with asperity. "This is so not my day …" she sighed. "Between her tantrum and Barty…"

"Why, what did he want?"

"Never you mind. Run and change before supper."

The supper proved to be quieter than usual. After the intense conversation earlier the boys were back to contemplative silences. The quality of the silence had changed, however. Ralf believed him, Harry thought elated. His brother was committed to the fight. And magical or not, Harry knew in his gut that Ralf's input would prove invaluable. Even now he was bending his brilliant mind in search of all the ways to help.

Harry grimaced as he helped himself to some chicken liver with mushrooms stew. Ralf's favourite. It figured.

"So, what's the deal with Crouch?" he finally asked.

"He wanted me to arrange a meeting with Father." Martin looked uncharacteristically troubled.

"Why?" the boys chorused.

Julius Hagel was one of the German and Bohemian Confederacy's twelve hereditary Electors. Following Grindelwald's coup in the late thirties he had opted to leave his native Pfalz and gone to live with his wife's family in Wales. Though he stayed even after Dumbledore had dealt with the German Dark Lord in 1945, Julius had always kept aloof from British politics, and went back to live in the Hagel's ancestral Eisenschloss following his wife's death. As far as Harry knew, Crouch and Julius had never met.

"Well," Martin was frowning at his goblet. "Barty wants to compare notes, so to speak…"

Harry felt his pulse accelerate.

"Notes on what," he asked quietly. Ralf too was staring at Martin intently, he noticed.

"On dark lords, of all things," his father replied, oblivious to the tension. "Apparently, we have a Grindelwald's wannabe on these shores. A self-proclaimed Dark Lord with the most ridiculous name. Voldemort, or some such. I –"

But Harry never found what Martin was about say, because at that moment a goblet in his brother's hand erupted into the most spectacular fireworks of blue and yellow sparks.

Even as Marie slid at the driving seat of the ancient Daimler on September 1 Harry was still riding on the euphoria of the last few days. The pandemonium that followed Ralf's first ever display of magic was like nothing he had experienced in his new life. The boys were laughing hysterically, Marie was crying, Martin leapt to the nearest fireplace, only stopping to dispatch Dexter and Sinister to France to bring over their maggle relations.

The Braques appeared not long after, visibly frazzled by the unfamiliar mode of transportation, but bearing a crate of their best wine as a gift. Between the Braques who owned muggle vineyards in France and Julius who owned elves-run ones in Pfalz, Pombrook boasted one of the better-stocked cellars in Britain. Usually the boys were only allowed to drink token amounts of alcohol on special occasions, but this time everyone was too happy to stop them from refilling their glasses. Better still, next morning Martin conventionally forgot his old threat of making them brew their own hangover potion should they ever overindulge. He even agreed, in what he later claimed was a moment of weakness, that it was time for the boys to start learning to ride winged horses.

Harry privately thought that Ada (a mare Martin designated for their use) was a bit too docile for his taste, but Ralf fell in love immediately, declaring that brooms were inferior to horses in every way. Only to be greeted, upon their entering the drawing room, by the sight of their grandfather beaming at him with pride and clutching a shiny new Perseus-Sieg. Apparently Julius had concluded that it was the infamous broomstick-ride that had finally jolted his grandson's dormant magic. Poor Ralf was pretty embarrassed by the whole thing and even tried to press the Perseus onto Harry. It was the sign of the prevailing festive mood, that that their somewhat rigid grandfather didn't take offence.

Harry fancied that Nutty didn't seem to be nearly as jubilant as the rest of the household. Still she whipped a pretty spectacular Schwarzwälder cake that was both boys' favourite dessert. It was as close to apology as they were going to get, he supposed, which was fine with him.

It was also the first time in his second life when he caught a sight of Bartemius Crouch. Barty Sr. came to lunch soon after the Braques returned to France (politely, but firmly declining Dexter's and Sinister's services and booking a flight instead). As the man closeted with their father and grandfather, Harry thought longingly of the extendable ears. Perhaps Ralf would be able to wheedle something from Martin once Harry was off to Hogwarts… The boys agreed that it wouldn't do for them to seem to be too interested in rising dark lords and were grudgingly prepared to bide their time.

Still even though the lack of information was irksome, the recent events filled Harry with new confidence. Ralf was already in the full planning mode and believed that his being magical after all was crucial to their success.

"You know what it means?" Ralf gushed as they settled at their favourite rocky beach to plot and plan.

"Duh," Harry grinned.

"No, I mean for the project V."

"Um. I am sure you'll do great in Hogwarts, but Voldemort is probably the most powerful wizard in existence."

"Don't be daft," Ralf dismissed. "I mean I can study arithmancy now."

"Er… That's great?.."

"You do realise that the reason Dumbledore screwed up was because he relied so much on the bloody Prophesy? Divination is the most imprecise branch of magic, and prophecies are notoriously unreliable."

"Well, he couldn't exactly ignore it either," Harry pointed out. "Not with Voldemort killing people because of it."

"From what I've gathered, Dumbledore was just as obsessed with it. He only cared for your final showdown, didn't he? The Order might as well have disbanded itself once you hit seventeen."

"Yes, but that was just shitty leadership," Harry objected.

"And it was that shitty because for him the war was about the Prophesy. Which put the Light at disadvantage. 'Cause for Voldemort the Prophesy was just a distraction from his main goals. Sure he made a mistake of going after you, but he was able to regroup, since for him the war was never about you."

"Fine. How does arithmancy help though?"

"It helps because it is the exact opposite of Divination," Ralf said impatiently. "I am surprised your brainy friend never thought of using it once you left Hogwarts. You'd never have wasted so much time and resources wandering aimlessly if you had used arithmancy models to plan you moves and calculate Voldemort's. Arithmancy helps to see the big picture and narrow down the solutions."

"Huh." Now that he thought about it, it _was_ odd that Hermione had never thought of arithmancy. And it was her favourite subject too…

"We were too busy trying to puzzle out Dumbledore's clues, I guess." Which he had left to slow them down, as the man himself later confessed. "That, and we were too bloody depressed." Especially after Ron had left.

"Hmm…" absently Ralf sent a pebble skipping.

"Do you think Voldemort uses arithmancy?" Harry wondered.

"We'll have to investigate more to be certain," Ralf replied thoughtfully. "I strongly suspect that he used arithmancy to figure out which of the July babies was the Prophesy boy. Which, actually, would be a good thing, if true."

"How come?"

"I mean that genius or no, if that was what he did he's not a particularly gifted arithmancer. It's like using a Goblin-wrought potion knife to sharpen a quill."

"He is an overconfident bastard," Harry conceded. "Still he's got quite a few followers and some of them could be good at arithmancy. Or he can kidnap one like he did Ollivander."

"He did what?!" Ralf was momentarily sidetracked.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Tortured him too. It was when he needed to figure out our wand connection."

"Bastard. But it shows how his decisions shaped by events. He reacts. More than he plans. Partly because he sort of knows what the big picture _should_ be and isn't too fussy how he gets there. Megalomania and arithmancy don't mix easily."

"Hence Dumbledore being crap at it too."

"Yup."

"Huh, perhaps I should take arithmancy after all…" Harry grimaced. If he opted for arithmancy he'd have to give up either Runes, which would be a pity or muggle studies. There was no way he'd pull a Hermione and exhaust himself with too many subjects. Not unless he wanted to give up on Quidditch, which just wasn't going to happen. Harry had no desire to study Care for Magical Creatures. Growing up at Pombrook he'd been exposed to the best of them and was quite happy to never come near flobberworms and srewts ever again. Thanks to Hogwarts buying thestrals from his father Harry had been able to strike a friendship of sorts with Hagrid before he even started Hogwarts, and he wasn't interested in getting to know Kettleburn. Muggle studies, though…

He wondered how he would explain his defection to the twins. The subject was added only recently to Hogwarts' curriculum and because of its unpopularity Dumbledore had to fight tooth and nail to keep it there. So far not a single pure-blood had signed on, and the students who did chose the elective were those who figured it would be an easy credit. Harry thought that for once Dumbledore was in the right and did his best to persuade Gryffindor's pure-bloods to take the course. To no avail. Fabian and Gideon were the only ones who had agreed, mostly to keep him company, and, Harry suspected, because they hoped to earn an easy owl. Bailing on them now would be awkward to say the least.

"Don't bother," Ralf interrupted his thoughts, "you'd be pants at it."

"Um, thanks," though Harry was more relieved than insulted.

"So you are basically saying that by incorporating my knowledge of Voldemort's past moves in your models we'd be able to figure out his future ones?" Harry frowned. "You know it sounds too good to be true."

"Put like that, yes," Ralf conceded. "I'd have to be much better versed in arithmancy than I am now to know its limitations, admittedly. But generally speaking, we should be able to calculate his possible moves, yes."

"Huh. Isn't it like those mathematicians that tried to use algorithms for gambling and ended up buried in debt?"

"There is a similarity, yes. But," Ralf grinned impishly, "you forget that arithmancy is _magic_."

Harry was still sceptical.

"Is that so? If arithmancy models were that handy arithmcers would make fortunes at maggle stock market and such.

Ralf gave him a rather pitying look.

"That's exactly what the _do_, brother dear!" he snorted. "Though there is a legal limit as to the extent of their meddling in most countries. Mind you, it's bitch to implement, since regulators need to be fairly well-versed in arithmancy themselves to spot an offender. It's also why wizards don't have the stock exchange."

"How do you even know that?" Harry demanded incredulously.

"You spent last Christmas at the Prewetts', and I went with mother and father to Eisenschloss," Ralf reminded. "Grandfather was in a full reminiscence mode. Talked quite a bit about Grindelwald's rise. Turned out, the Confederacy accords concerning that sort of thing were among the strictest. Grindelwald argued that curtailing wizarding financial and trading activities in order to protect muggles was a good example of hurting our interests and worse, putting us at the mercy of other magical beings, like Goblins and Zwergs. What's more, he kinda had a point there…"

"If you say so." Harry wasn't prepared to agree with a dark lord, even if he couldn't think of counter arguments off the top of his head.

"Oh, I do. Of course, Grandfather says, Grindelwald was very good at arguing both sides of the debate. He preached to the supremacists how the Stature of Secrecy infringes on the wizarding rights and to humanitarians how its removal would be for "the muggles' own good".

"Well, they'd have to have been daft to believe him."

"From what you said, Dumbledore believed him. Think he was daft?"

"Skeeter hinted rather heavily he was infatuated."

"Quite a few people were," Ralf said dryly. "If you think they were all idiots, you are being daft yourself."

Harry felt his brain hurting.

"What are you saying?"

"The Stature of Secrecy was imposed for the wizards' benefit; anyone who says differently is full of it. We preach that every human life is equally precious, but our Aurors and healers are forbidden to save muggles, unless the dark mugic is involved. And even then there is a lot of red tape to go through. Basically Grindelwald's solution appealed to extremists on both sides, if for different reasons."

"Ok, what of Britain?"

"Actually, we don't have a comprehensive law, regulating wizard-muggle business dealing. Partly because the financial aspect of it is covered by our treaties with Goblins. However, Goblins are only interested in banking and finance, which lives us quite a bit of wiggle-room when it comes to trading. Though things would have been limited still further, had Dumbledore's Muggle Protection Act passed last year. Father even went to the Wizengamot session to help to vote it down."

"He did?!" Harry felt his brain melting. He might not have always approved of his former and present headmaster but he rather thought the Hagels were on the same page with Dumbledore where muggles were concerned. "Why?"

"'Cause, it would affect his business of course," Ralf huffed impatiently. "He breeds muggle horses as well as magical ones."

"But he does not _sell_ magical horses to muggles," Harry argued. "How would he have been affected?"

"There are already laws on the books to prevent him from doing so, the Stature of Secrecy, for one."

Harry was still not convinced.

"Yes," he said, sending his own pebble skipping, "but if we don't have a comprehensive stature concerning this sort of thing, what's to stop some arithmancer from wrecking the entire muggle stock market and cause something like the Great Depression?" Harry paused. "Wait, we didn't, did we?"

"No clue. I don't know the New World's history that well."

"Well, everyone knows about Grindenwald and the Nazis. If a wizard caused a major economic screw-up we'd have heard something. Or you would, at least."

"Not necessarily. As I said, it takes one to spot one."

"Surely there were more than one arithmancer overseers."

"Yes, but what are the odds, that they were working for the Law Enforcement? If there was a law to enforce in the first place…"

"Well, doesn't it show that Dumbledore has a point after all?!" Harry said exasperated.

"So does Father. Basically he thinks it's a thin edge of the wedge. We use magic all over the estate, you know. Dexter and Sinister work at the stables, Paula uses healing spells and potions on the muggle horses as well as the magical ones. And technically, since we entertain muggle buyers here on occasion, they _are_ exposed to magic, even if they are unlikely to spot it. And by that bill's logic using magic to breed muggle horses does give us an unfair advantage, just like with arithmancy and stock-markets."

"Hmm. You don't agree?"

"I don't care. Being magical is in itself an unfair advantage, you know. But I, for one, am very happy that I am not a squib after all."

Ralf's pebble suddenly froze mid-leap and started to skip backwards. Reflectively Harry reached out and snatched it.

"Yes", he said. "I am too."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. Meetings.

Thanks to Marie's impeccable driving skills they made it to King's Cross with time to spare. The station was in a state of controlled chaos, with muggles confusedly ogling robed wizards, magical pets creating almighty racket and the Ministry's officials surreptitiously casting Confundus spells at regular intervals. Harry had already sent Floyd, his eagle owl, to the Hogwarts' Owlery. Much more dignified that way, not to mentioned practical. Why the solution had never occurred to him (or Ron) in his previous life was beyond him.

As they crossed the barrier, Harry noticed the new head girl calmly giving instructions to first years. She was quite a beauty, blessed with haughty aristocratic features and with her thick wavy hair dressed in a somewhat severe braid. Andromeda, Harry realised. And the gangly Hupplepuff with a head boy budge standing nearby was surely Ted Tonks. Interesting. They didn't look even remotely like a couple. If anything, Ted looked apprehensive of the Black girl.

Suddenly Harry was assaulted by all his past doubts. It would be years before Ralf would master arithmancy, after all. What of all the changes that were happening right now? That already had happened? What if Tonks would never be born just because he had arrogantly taken it upon himself to save her from dying? For now the brothers had decided that Harry shouldn't interfere with the marauders' friendships (and rivalries), but what if he had already? What if they all would end up in different compartments simply because Harry had been added to the picture?

"You think too much," Ralf muttered. "Go with your guts when in doubt and leave the thinking to me," he smirked.

"Works for me."

"Mrs. Hagel, over here!" Fabian called, causing Ralf to scowl reflexively. The twins reacted to Marie the same way the Weasely men reacted to Veela, which never failed to amuse Martin and irritate Ralf.

As the adults were exchanging pleasantries Harry spotted a golden chain dangling around Fabian's neck. A pocket watch? But the Fabian in Harry's old life owned a wrist watch…

"What's that?" Harry nodded at the chain.

"Not sure," Fabian said.

"Yeah, Fab found it in the pyramid at Teotihuacan."

"You wouldn't believe what curses those Aztecs put on the thing!"

"Dad had to ask a Mexican colleague to help breaking them."

"Said it was nothing like he'd seen before."

Mr. Prewett had worked as a curse breaker at Gringotts before retirement.

"Wow," Harry marvelled, "So, is it just a bauble, or does it do anything?"

"No clue."

"We hope to research while in Hogwarts."

"If we could get into the Restricted Rection."

"Hey, could I have a look?" Ralf asked.

"Sure, your nerdiness." Fabian held out a golden disk wrought with an intricately coiled feathered serpent and unfamiliar looking glyphs.

"Hmm." Ralf said. "I bet it's not Goblin-made."

"So?" Gideon huffed. "Still neat."

"That's not what I mean," Ralf said pensively. "Well, good luck with your research," he handed the amulet back.

"You mean we'd need it?"

"Hey, I don't mean anything. I've got not a clue what it is."

"Annoying little git, isn't he? Wait till you start Hogwarts…"

"Yes, so many opportunities to get our backs at him…"

"What with no Nutty around…"

"Don't bully my brother," Harry intervened. "And don't underestimate Nutty…"

"Time to find your compartment, boys," Martin called.

As Harry and the twins mounted the train, Harry saw Ralf chivalrously lifting a trunk belonging to a first year. A first year girl with dark red hair and bright green eyes, to be exact.

"Thank you," Lily smiled. "Are you a first year too?"

"No, I'm just seeing my brother off," Ralf nodded in Harry's general direction. "And you are very welcome."

"Well, let's go, or we won't find any seats," an eleven year old Snape was giving Ralf one of his trade-mark glares, but his brother was too busy staring at Lily with the intensity he usually reserved for particularly tricky mathematical problems to notice. "I'll carry that for you," he said firmly.

Damn it all. Harry thought dismayed. Of what use Ralf's celebrated brains were going to be if he didn't even think with them?! He was too young to be so susceptible, anyway, Harry fumed. Suddenly Harry remembered that Snape was another child prodigy and he'd fallen for Lily while they'd both been still pre-teens. Double damn. Harry decided to give up on puzzling out all the ways his brother crushing on his former mother could screw-up their future. Some things were just too weird to contemplate.

Harry and the twins were settling down in their compartment when Ralf poked in to say bye. He looked so dazed, Harry wanted to give him a hard shake.

"Did your new friend introduce herself?" he asked irritably.

"No," Ralf looked surprised. "Why?"

"Never mind. I'll send you an owl as soon as I talk to Vector." They both hoped Ralf could get a head start with the arithmancy thing.

"Will do. Well, bye, guys. Have a nice year."

They were about to start their first round of exploding snap, as the compartment door slid open, and a very timid looking Remus Lupin asked whether they'd mind if he joined them.

"Yes."

"No," Gideon and Harry said simultaneously.

"Don't be a git, Fab," Gideon said mildly. "First year, right? I'll get it for you." He vaulted the boy's trunk.

"Thank you," Remus said shyly.

They were in the middle of introductions when Lena barged in to demand the new Nimbus.

"What's that, an heirloom?" she asked as she spotted Fabian's golden chain.

As the twins regaled her with a heavily embellished version of the amulet's discovery Harry noticed Remus staring at it with awe.

"Don't worry, it's de-cursed," he reassured. "Mr. Prewett used to work as a curse-breaker."

Remus merely nodded, but once Lena had finally left their compartment he asked to have closer look.

"Hmm," he said handing it back. "It's not Goblin-made."

What is it with all these younger nerds, Harry thought with asperity.

"So what if it isn't?"

"Not sure," the werewolf said musingly. "I'd need to check it up first. You see, the gold Cortes plundered _was_ Goblin-made. That was what got them up in arms and started a major rebellion. Remember, the one when Tarquinius Colvert tried to come up with a Goblin-specific pox strain, and ended up killing muggles by thousands…."

Harry tried to recall what he knew about Goblin rebellions, but all that came to mind was Ron making up their names for his exam paper.

"So what are you going to look up?" Fabian sounded as intrigued as Harry felt.

"Hmm," Remus look puzzled. "You see, I always assumed that _all_ Aztec gold was Goblin-made. After all, they didn't know any other metals, like iron… I don't know if there is much Aztec-related stuff can be in Hogwarts library. What with the Borgia papers ended up in Muggle collections…"

"They never deciphered Aztec writing, right?"

"There were a few attempts, but nothing comprehensive," Gideon confirmed. "Though the chap, who helped us to de-curse it reckons this character means death." He pointed at an innocuous looking glyph.

Great, Harry thought. Another symbol of death paired with a snake thing.

"I heard, Aztec writing system isn't actually human," Remus put in. "That's why no one could crack it."

"That's just rumours," Fabians dismissed. "Other beings may have their languages and their magic, but writing is a human thing, just like wands. Even centaurs, for all their claims to superiority, use Ancient Greek for writing."

The twins must have had a head start with their research, Harry realised. He was starting to feel well over his head, and thought longingly of exploding snap, when the door slid open once again and an auburn head poked in.

"Sorry," Lily said. "My friend and I are looking for a seat."

"They could fit here, couldn't they?" Remus asked hopefully.

"Sure." Harry decided that thinking was overrated, after all. It was Ralf's province anyway. Provided that he regained his brain function after the encounter with Lily.

The twins shrugged good-naturally and made room for the first-years.

"So what house do you think you'll get in?" Lily asked Remus after another round of introductions.

The boy chewed his lip nervously. "Not sure", he said,"Dad wouldn't say how the sorting is done."

That set the twins off.

"Aww."

"Parents, they are like that…"

"But don't worry, ikle firsties, that's why you need older students to guide you."

Amused, Harry listened as the twins weaved the tale involving labyrinthine stairs and various malicious creatures. Lily and Remus listened round-eyed, and appeared to drink every word, but Snape looked sceptical.

"They are screwing with you, Lily," the dark-haired boy had finally enough. "There is no way they allow us anywhere near werewolves. Let me guess, you are Gryffindors, right?" he sneered at the older boys.

"Got a problem with that?"

Apparently thinking better than repeating the brawn-versus-brain crack, Snape shrugged and settled for a dignified silence instead.

Lily, however, swelled with indignation.

"That was mean," she huffed. "I am not from a magical family, so how was I to know that you were having me on?!"

"So what house are you hoping for?" Harry tried to diffuse the tension.

"Sev and I are aiming for Slytherin," the girl replied proudly.

"What?!" the twin hooted.

"A muggle-born Slytherin!"

"Talk about miracles."

Immediately Lily turned an alarming shade of red.

"You've got a problem with muggle-borns?" she demanded, her green eyes narrowing to slits.

Harry noticed that Snape was looking distinctly uncomfortably now.

"_We_ don't—"

"The snakes, though…"

"Let's just say, they aren't too welcoming."

"Don't forget, venomous."

Lily frowned uncertainly.

"Is that another of your jokes?"

"No," Harry confirmed, "it's a known fact that Salazar Slytherin was against admitting muggle-born students to Hogwarts. He eventually quarrelled with the other founders because of it and left."

"That was a thousand years ago," Snape said defensively.

"Still, the houses mostly reflect their founders' values," Harry returned. "Slyths are ambitious and snooty," he smirked at Snape. "Ravenclaw is for nerds, Gryffs praise daring and chivalry—"

"And Puffs are all work and no play," Gideon supplied.

"Yeah, the choice is really obvious," Fabian added.

Harry glanced at the first years. Snape looked distressed, Remus worried, and Lily pensive.

"Hey, that's the food trolley!" A welcome destruction, he thought. "No, don't bother," he added as Lily reached for her money bag. "Since you are all first-years, it's our treat."

Fabian and Gideon looked bemused, but didn't argue. Snape seemed uncomfortable at the idea, but when Harry and the twins retuned laden with food and sweets he seemed to decide to take his clues from Lily and tacked in.

As they were gorging themselves on pumpkin pastries and chocolate frogs, the conversation finally shifted from ancient civilisations and house politics to more age-appropriate exploding snap and Quidditch. Lily was browsing enthusiastically Remus's collection of famous witch and wizard cards and listening to Harry's and the twins' rundown of the Quidditch rules, as well as the latest gossip concerning famous players. Until, that is, Gideon mentioned the price-range for top broomsticks.

"What!" she exclaimed, glancing at an unhappily looking Snape. "That's just scandalous."

"You'll train on the school brooms free of charge," Harry soothed.

"Mind you, they are mostly only good for sweeping…"

"But it's not like you can join your house-team until your second year."

"Sometimes the house team can sponsor you for a decent broom, if you are a good flyer, right?" Remus asked uncertainly.

"Yep, Harry's old man just shelled-out few galleons for a Nimbus."

"Which likely goes to Rivers, the lucky sot."

"Unless Stebbins sabotages him."

"Think we should get McLaggen to taste his food?"

Lily and Remus laughed, but Harry privately thought the idea had merit.

"And what are you riding, a Milky Way?" Snape re-entered the conversation. That was an old American family model. Their slogan 'Steady as you go' had long since become a byword for inept flying. Harry smiled unoffended.

"You'll see soon enough – when we trash Slytherin."

"Never then."

"Keep dreaming, little viper."

"Yep, wishful thinking costs nothing."

They continued to bicker, however there was no real bite to it.

"Are all families sorted in the same houses?" Lily asked. "That nasty boy said all his relatives were in Slytherin."

"Explains the nasty bit."

"Yep, a huge giveaway, that."

"Not necessarily," Harry said. "I bet my brother'll end up in Ravenclaw."

"No one is going to be fool enough to take it," Gideon snorted.

"What about your parents?"

"Dad was in Gryffindor. Mum's French, so she went to Beauxbatons. She is a muggleborn, like you," he felt compelled to add.

"And our resident house ghost is one of Harry's ancestors," Fabian boasted.

"A ghost?!" Lily's eyes grew the size of saucers.

The twins launched into the description of Hogwarts ghosts, sharing their theories concerning the blood-stains on the Baron's robes or reasons behind Myrtle's chosen dwelling-place. Lily kept glancing at Severus whenever she thought they were pulling her leg, but for once the dark-haired boy listened intently, obviously taking mental notes, as Fabian offered some extremely unhelpful advice on dealing with Peeves.

"Well," Harry said as the train finally pulled up at Hogsmead station. "See you guys in the castle." They had already explained about first-years taking different route. Nodding their greeting to Hagrid the boys headed to the carriages.

"So," Fabian said impishly, "are you going to duel your brother over the little fire-eater?"

"What? No!"

"If you say so."

"Yeah, mate, you both seemed to have appointed yourselves her protectors."

"I was just being nice. A foreign concept to you guys, I realise."

"Question is, _why_ were you being so bloody nice?"

"Yeah, to the point of buying treats for that little snake…"

"Stop it."

But of course it was too juicy a topic for them to stop. The twins kept at it until they finally settled down at Gryffindor table and they all started to enthusiastically exchange summer stories with other house-mates. Nick stopped to say hello and inquire after various Pombrooks' portraits. Until finally the scared looking firsties filed into the Great Hall and the Sorting began. There was a long hush and then audible gasps as the Hat started its song.

Gather 'round, gather 'round,

Listen to my tale.

I will tell where you're bound,

All, without fail.

Lions, they are bold and proud,

Ready for a fray.

Always the ones to stick around

To save another day.

Eagles, quick and needle-witted,

Like to soar high.

Clever, talented, committed,

Learning on the fly.

Badgers fair and assiduous,

Loyal to a fault.

As straight shooting and on purpose,

As a crossbow bolt.

Snakes are shrewd, and sly, and cunning,

Slither in the grass.

Always plotting, always planning

In and out of class.

I have lived a thousand years,

I have seen it all.

I will know your hopes, your fears,

Read you like a scroll.

Trust my judgement, try me now –

I am never wrong!

I will put you in, I vow,

Where you belong!

McGonagall started to call out names and soon after Avery was dispatched to Slytherin it was Sirius's turn. As his name was called Sirius stole a quick glance at his cousins then set his jaw determinately and put the Hat on. There was a longish pause, and then the Hat called for Gryffindor. Flashing a quick grin at James who sent him the thumbs-up, the Black heir plopped at the Gryff's table, deliberately choosing a seat near Nick. Which put him right across Harry, of course. Harry glanced at the Slyth's table. Andromeda's face was a vacant mask, but Narcissa looked positively gob-smacked. Harry was one of the few who clapped.

"Uh-oh," Fabian said.

"It's him," Gideon followed.

"Must be. You are, aren't you?"

"I'm what?" Sirius returned aggressively.

"A person, responsible for a certain red-head first-year ending up in our compartment."

"Described to us as a 'nasty boy whose entire family is in Slytherin."

"Fits the description, doesn't he?"

"The family is far from happy, by the way," Gideon observed.

"Don't care what they think," Sirius said sullenly. "And it was that Snivellous kid who was nasty."

The twins hooted.

"An apt nickname!"

"Yeah, I can sort of see where the Hat was coming from…"

"Welcome, fellow Lion!"

"Hush, it's the fire-eater turn."

Lily approached the stool looking tense.

"Hey, Harry, care to put a wager on that one?"

"You give me good odds for Gryffindor?"

"Do we look like suckers?"

"Gryffindor!" the Hat announced.

"Yeah, figures…"

This time the applause was heartier.

"Hello again." Lily plopped at Harry's right. Pointedly ignoring Sirius, she turned to Nick instead. "You must be Sir Nicholas? I am so happy to finally make your acquaintance!"

Head wobbling with pleasure, the Ghost beamed at the redhead.

"Another one to bite the dust…" Gideon muttered. "I hope it's not catching."

"Look, there is Remus!" Lily looked up interrupting Nick's enthusiastic account of his almost-beheading.

This time the pause was even longer than with Sirius, Harry thought. Finally the boy was sorted into Gryffindor too. Not long after Pettigrew joined him to Harry's displeasure (what _did_ the Hat see in him to put the rat with the lions?!), and then it was James's turn. His sorting was a matter of seconds. Sliding on the bench near Sirius (the other boy having saved the seat) James flashed a confident grin at Lily.

"Glad to see you standards improving!" he said.

Fabian sighed.

"This is starting to look like a serious cause for concern," he muttered.

Lily spared James a disdainful look and turned to watch Snape's sorting.

"No surprises there," Harry looked on as the dark haired boy was welcomed by Lucius Malfoy.

"You can say that again," James gave a nasty laugh. "You could practically stamp a snake on his forehead."

"Not that you'd see it behind that greasy mane he calls hair." Sirius blew at his own luxurious bangs for effect.

"I thought Gryffindors were brave at heart, not bullies," Lily bristled.

"Look here—" Sirius pulled his wand.

"No, you look." Harry shifted to shield the girl, before he even realised what he was doing. "Put it away. Gryffs stick to Gryffs, and it's bad manners to draw at ladies."

Sirius seemed to consider him.

"Fine," he tacked his wand away. "If you wish to resolve it formally, you know where to find me."

The twins howled with laughter.

"Told you so."

"We've got a Femme Fatale in our midst."

Harry shook his head incredulously.

"You haven't done anything worth duelling over …. yet. And I am not your enemy, Sirius."

Learn to pick your battles, you moron, he wanted to add, except he knew his idiot of a former godfather would take it as a challenge.

As soon as Dumbledore made his usual announcements Harry stood to leave. He had classes in the morning, after all, and a very long letter to his brother to write.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Pranks and Duels

Next morning Harry was finishing his breakfast when an unfamiliar owl dropped an ominous looking envelop among the cluster of first years. Harry took one look at Sirius's stoic expression and incinerated Walburga's Howler mid-screech. Sirius looked at him warily.

"Sorry," Harry shrugged, "can't stand screaming at breakfast table."

Noticing that Vector was on his way out, Harry made to intercept him leaving others to explain a shocked Lily the concept of Howlers. For the next week he didn't come into contact with the marauders much. He was vaguely aware of their clashes with Slyths (Lily certainly made them a topic of the discussion in the common room), but he had too much on his plate to pay them much heed.

There were Quidditch try-outs to worry about (and worry Harry did for Stebbins and McLaggen hostility towards Rivers was becoming an issue). Then there were new subjects.

Thanks to his many advantages and superior experience Harry had so far breezed through his lessons. Runes were the one subject where he would be on an equal footing with everyone else, and he didn't relish the idea of being eclipsed by some brainy Ravenclaw. Or worse, by Narcissa Black. Turned out, his multilingual background proved to be an unexpected advantage. Thanks to his mother and grandfather Harry was already fairly fluent in French and German, and Martin had tutored his sons in Classics since they both could remember. Runes were wholly different of course, but the overall linguistic proficiency helped enormously. After only a first couple of lessons Harry found himself at the top of the class together with Erica Letchford, a Ravenclaw and a fellow half-blood, much to his satisfaction and Narcissa Black's disappointment.

It was Muggle Studies, however, that proved to be a complete revelation. There were only five students in the class. (Though it wasn't the tiniest class, Harry knew. The NEWT level arithmancy classes averaged 2-3 pupils per year.) Apart from the Gryffindor contingent there was Jessica Hallandale, an athletic looking girl who had just got picked as a chaser for the Ravenclaw team. Her other elective being Divination, Harry surmised she just picked what she deemed the least demanding subjects to save time for Quidditch. Happlepuff was represented by Richard Wesly, whom Harry didn't remember ever talking to.

Harry had long since steeled himself to endure stupendously boring lectures on electricity and technology. He had endured far worse for the Greater Good, he figured. What he had not expected was how exciting his new Professor proved to be. Dumbledore, he knew, had had to replace the previous teacher due to numerous complaints on all sides. This new appointment, though less obviously subversive than hiring centaurs and werewolves was just as unorthodox in its own right. It was also totally brilliant. At their first lesson the five attendees were hooked, by the third they were completely and utterly obsessed. Professor Colvert (Harry and the twins wondered whether he was the descendant of the chap who had accidentally invented syphilis, but didn't have the nerve to ask) turned out to be the very epitome of Cool. Even at Hogwarts he managed a casual look wearing jeans and t-shirts that featured his favourite bands under simple robes.

At their first lesson Colvert explained how it would be pretty pointless to bother with muggle studies at all, if they would only ever stay in the castle and read books. He told them he'd arranged an excursion to the muggle world for their next lesson and bade them to don muggle clothing. Even Harry (who of all of them had perhaps the most exposure to all things muggle) had to admit he was intrigued. When the next week Professor Colvert port-keyed all of them to his muggle flat in London (the twins clad in jeans and tees they'd borrowed from Harry) he realised where Sirius past/future interest in muggle bikes and posters with scantily clad models came from.

The flat was like nothing Harry had seen in either life. The place looked like a dream (or a movie) version of a bachelor pad. Harry even wondered where the man hid his porn stash and his bong. He was totally the type to own them. There were books scattered all over the place, movie and concert posters on the walls, guitars, banjos, and some other unfamiliar instruments on every available surface, and records. Records everywhere. For the next two hours they simply sat on the floor or lounged on the couch and listened to the man's favourite records. Elvis, the Beatles, Stones, the best of the sixties and early seventies bands… By the end of the lesson they were all in love, overwhelmed.

Even for Harry these two hours were a complete eye-opener. The Dursleys' idea of an appropriate reading was a Daily Mail copy at breakfast. They never once treated Harry even to the movies, let alone a concert. And though in his new life Marie was very musical, her tastes ran to Classics. Ralf was the only one who voluntary accompanied her to listen to various philharmonic orchestras. Recently he even branched out from Marie's old favourites, like Brahms or Debussy to more sophisticated fare like Stravinsky and some Austrian chap, who Harry privately believed had perpetuated an Emperor Cloths-like prank on his audiences. Certainly Harry wouldn't be caught dead listening to that sort of thing.

The sixties and early seventies rock and pop music turned out to be right up his alley. It was even more up the twins' alley. Fabian and Gideon were totally bewitched by the muggle cultural scene. They completely abandoned their Aztec-related project, as well as most of their homework, in favour of reading things like _Catcher in the Rye_ or _A Clockwork Orange_ in the Common Room. Or, worse, torturing a muggle guitar. The twins had blown what must have been both of their yearly allowances on the offending instrument. Harry didn't know how much did these things usually cost, but he suspected that Nicholas Grinev (a Ravenclaw in their year) had robbed his friends blind. Jessica hinted heavily that the guitar had actually belonged to a seven-year muggle-born Ravenclaw, and Nicholas had merely brokered the deal pocketing a hefty commission. Harry had no idea whether it was the indifferent quality of the guitar, or the twins' conspicuous lack of talent, but it hadn't been long before he came to resent that particular acquisition. Him, and the entire Common Room.

Harry sighed. Tonight his friends were particularly insufferable. Their latest project was an attempt to compose an alternative to the Hat's song (naturally, with some particularly offensive Slytherin-related lyrics) that was supposed to be sung to the tune of the Yellow Submarine. Harry, who was wrestling with an especially demanding piece of Runes homework, was soon ready to vanish the bloody thing. Though, if he were honest with himself, he was cranky because of his own overconfidence. He'd expected to spend no more than half an hour on Runes, Professor Schliemann giving them a text that had already been translated to wrestle with. The catch was that the translation was done with the spell and contained therefore a number of inevitable mistakes and inaccuracies. Harry had thought they were going to be a piece of cake to spot even without looking at the original. Having detected several mistranslations however, Harry realised that the entire meaning of the passage had been distorted by the faulty translation. There was nothing for it, but take a fresh bit of parchment and start anew. Soon he was the only one in the room still studying.

"And we rip off their fangs,

Rip off their fangs, rip off their fangs,"

Fabian blared. Harry wondered whether their friendship would survive a quick Silencio. Fortunately, he was apparently not the only one who had had enough.

"Will you two shut up already?!" Lucretia Prewett, a fifth year prefect definitely did not approve of her cousins' new hobby.

"Yeah," McLaggen agreed, "Dumbledore must be off his rocker if he thinks we should waste our time on such garbage."

Despite his own earlier misgivings Harry wasn't prepared to let it pass.

"That's like judging the wizarding culture by your rendition of Celestina Warbeck while in shower," he said. Not that he ever heard McLaggen singing anywhere.

Before the other boy could think of a fitting retort, Lily entered the conversation.

"Do wizards record their music?" she asked, obviously intrigued.

"There are certain spells and some patented experimental magic, but nothing on the commercial scale," Harry said.

"Why not?"

"Dunno. Wouldn't surprise me, if one of these days someone came up with a marketable idea. Wizards aped quite a few muggle things, after all, like photo cameras or the wireless."

"Muggle photos don't move," Lena objected.

"No, but the germ of the idea was muggle. I've browsed through wizarding newspapers of the time of Grindelwald, you know. The only illustrations were cartoons. And muggles were well into colour movies by the time."

Lily didn't recognise the reference, and turned to Remus for an explanation. James and Sirius, Harry noticed, were not present, no doubt up to some mischief. The rat must have tagged along, as he too wasn't in evidence.

"Well, whoever will try to market muggle music will soon go bankrupt," Stebbins sneered, "Might as well save themselves the bother."

"You'd think differently, if you heard the real Beatles," Lily said simply.

"And the next time I'll need a first year mudblood advice I'll be sure to tell you," the boy retorted.

Harry put the thick glossary down with a thud.

"You could use some well-meaning advice, Stebbins," he said. "Why don't you send your friends to Fabian and Gideon here. We'll trash it all out later."

"Fine," the boy said curtly. Harry could see that McLaggen was more than happy with the development.

Lena, however, was anything but.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. "You can't be fighting duels. Not until we played Ravenclaw."

"And your authority over me is limited to Quidditch, Lena."

"Fine. But if you put yourself out of commission, I am replacing you with Stebbins here."

And good luck winning anything with him as a Seeker, Harry thought.

"You faith in me is truly touching," he said aloud.

Harry wanted nothing more than to leave the Common Room and finish his homework in the privacy of his dormitory, but he knew it would be interpreted as a retreat. So he stayed for another half an hour. At least, the twins finally ceased their caterwauling, he thought, trying to stay positive.

Next morning he was waylaid on his way to breakfast by a very nervous looking Lily.

"Look, you don't have to fight that idiot", she said, "The best way to deal with him is to ignore."

Harry smiled. "I can't back down now, even if I wanted to. Which I don't, by the way. It's not about you, Lily. The word he used is an extremely prerogative slur. I just can't let it slide. I told you, my mum's muggleborn."

But when they finally met at dawn on the castle battlements Harry couldn't help but feel nervous. He was fairly confident about fighting Stebbins, but Harry knew that McLaggen, who naturally was one of the seconds (the other being Reggie Mott, one of the Gryffindor's beaters), will use any pretext to enter the fray. And since the boy had an ocean-wide mean streak it would put the twins in the harm's way. Harry was determined to be as ruthless as necessary to keep the duel from becoming a free-for-all brawl.

With that in mind only after a few minutes of dancing and parring Harry successfully used an Expelioramus on the reserve Chaser. Immediately he saw the burly Keeper whipping his own wand out. Any moment now there going to be two other duels raging. Harry needed to do something to stop it from happening. Anything.

His reflexes kicking before he had the time to process his actions, Harry pointed his wand and called, "Serpentosa!"

A huge anaconda erupted from the tip of his wand and lunged at his adversaries. In the corner of his eye Harry could see that even the twins were unnerved. They were the only ones outside the family who knew about Harry's Parseltongue abilities. Harry rather hoped that it would stay that way, but wasn't sure if he could control the snake without actually giving it orders.

So far it forbore to strike, hissing at the fourth-years menacingly and obviously awaiting instructions. Harry finally regained his wits.

"So," he inquired, twilling Stebbins's wand nonchalantly, "What's it going to be? Are you going to apologise, or shall we proceed?"

The boys were all looking afraid, but McLaggen was not to be cowed easily.

"You are bluffing," he challenged.

"Go ahead, call me on my bluff," Harry taunted, "You are still armed."

For a moment it seemed that McLaggen was about to lash out and do something foolhardy, but Stebbins put his foot down.

"I am the principal here," he said resignedly. "I'll apologise tonight."

"Good," Harry cancelled the snake and returned Stebbins his wand. "Let's have some breakfast."

"Don't expect me to partake in that humiliation," McLaggen hissed to his friend. Gideon was about to point out that it was the other boy's duty to do so, but Harry signalled to him to leave well alone. He wanted Stebbins to apologise, not to start a full-blown in-house war. The look on the McLaggen's face told him that the issue was far from settled between them, not by a long short.

The morning after Stebbins's historic apology Harry was hastily swallowing his breakfast (running somewhat late for the team's last-before-the-match long training session) when James and Sirius settled on the opposite bench.

"Say, Hagel," James said insolently, "Your folks have the special affinity to snakes, right?" he asked. "How come you are not in Slytherin?"

Harry looked pointedly at the Black heir and turned back to James.

"Why don't you take it up with the Hat?" he suggested.

"Can you command snakes?" James pursued.

Dammit.

"Were you spying on the duel?" Harry asked wearily.

"Did you see us anywhere in the vicinity?" James smirked.

Harry started to get a very bad feeling over this. It would be just like James to view him as a rival, now that he had actually duelled over his lady. That the younger boy considered Lily as his was not exactly a secret. He was making a fool of himself regularly in order to impress the redhead. Not to mention making Snape's life miserable. After the duel, Harry realised, he must have shot right past the Slytherin to the top of James's hit-list.

Harry leaned forward, invading the boy personal space big time.

"Don't fuck with me, Potter," he warned. Judging by the way his former father's eyes lit up with the challenge it was the exactly wrong thing to say. The big oedipal showdown was only a matter of time now. And, probably, not much of it. Ah, well.

At least his training was going swimmingly. Lena was glad that all her team-mates were in one piece to raise the issue of duels, and, somewhat to Harry's surprise, even McLaggen was on his best behaviour.

The tensions between Gryffs and Claws on the other hand were so high that they even affected their muggle culture appreciation sessions. They were at the Colvert's again, listening to an obviously bootleg record of _Whole Lotta Love_, with the man himself regaling them with his take on "how I spent my summer vacation" story. Apparently he spent his with a few muggle pals filming a bike road movie emulating or as he himself termed it 'paying homage' to Dennis Hopper's _Easy Rider_. The twins who had never been to the movies listened enthralled, but Jessica's thoughts were elsewhere.

"Are Harvey Davidsons the same price-range as Perseuses?" she inquired.

"No Quidditch talk in my classroom," Colvert admonished, "not if you want that movie field trip to happen."

At Transfiguration that week they were learning about animagi. Since Trelawney had yet to be hired, McGonagall's demonstration elicited the proper response.

"Can a wizard turn into a magical creature?" Harry wondered aloud, as the applause subsided.

The Head of Gryffindor frowned at Harry for speaking up out of turn but forbore to reprimand in favour of answering the question.

"The theory on the matter is inconclusive," she said. There are no mentions of such cases in the Animagi Register, but it only started in the mid 1700s. There are references in ancient texts to wizards who could turn into a salamander or even a dragon, but most experts consider these sources unreliable."

"And what do you think, Professor?" Harry wanted to know.

"I am inclined to be sceptical," she said, "but we can't exclude the possibility altogether."

Harry wondered whether he should ask for an extra credit in Transfiguration in order to try to become an animagus, only to reluctantly discard the idea. An extra credit for McGonagall would mean _a lot_ of work, he knew, and he had too much on his plate to play the teacher's pet. Besides, McGonagall would see to it that he registered properly, which would sort of defeat the purpose in Harry's opinion.

After the lesson and on their way to lunch the twins suddenly declared that they needed to see Flitwick about something.

"Is it about the Aztec thing?" Harry asked.

"No, something else entirely."

Harry was intrigued, but didn't press. He had his secrets after all, and his friends were certainly entitled to theirs. However, after silently exchanging a look, the boys apparently decided to come clean.

"It's actually about something you mentioned to Lily the other day."

"Yeah, when Stebbins was being a git."

"More than he is usually."

Harry thought back.

"Grindelwald? Muggle culture?"

"Magical ways of sound recording," Gideon said.

"We want to know what has been done on it, if anything."

"I see," Harry said, and he did. "Well, if you end up magically mass producing Celestina Warbeck, I'll officially disown you."

"It's a sad day when one's friends have so little faith in one," Fabian said mournfully.

"Yeah, when did we ever display such regrettable taste?"

"Come, brother, we need to regain our sense of worth!"

Harry continued to the Great Hall wondering whether there was anything in the family library to be of use for his friends' new project. And now that he came to think of it there could be something on animagi transformations as well.

As he settled at the table he noticed his brother's raven dropping a thick scroll at Vector's lap.

"Hey, Gordon," he called softly, sized by the impulse. The black bird swooped on his shoulder. "Wait a sec, OK? Here, you can have the rest of my casserole."

Harry dived in his bag for a spare bit of parchment and scribbled a quick note to his brother. That reminded him that he had yet to write to his French relations. He'd do that after the evening training session, he vowed to himself.

"Hey, buddy, are you up to flying over the Channel?" Harry petted Floyd's beak affectionately. "Here I nicked something for you in the kitchen." The owl pecked at the treat politely, and extended a leg. "Safe flight," Harry turned to the exit.

It was only due to his battle-honed reflexes that Harry sensed a movement behind his back followed by a muttered incantation. Whirling around he had barely enough time to block his invisible opponent(s) hexes. Hastily he renewed his shield, mentally going through his options. The cloak would save the annoying little bastards from most jinxes, he knew, and he wasn't mad enough to want to cause them serious harm. Though he might yet review his intentions, he amended, as an unmistakable stunning hex glanced off his shield. Exasperated, he hit them with a powerful Bat-Bogey hex. The boys were not affected by it, but the giant bogies flapping in the thin air gave Harry a good idea of their location. He lunged forward and grabbed at the familiar fabric, ignoring the yucky feel of the slime and exposing James and Sirius. Harry hastily banished the cloak, visualising a spot in the Hidden Things Room near the infamous broken cabinet. That gave the boys opening for another attack. Harry barely managed to sidestep Sirius's Stunner, but James got him with a Stinging Hex right in the forehead. As the pain exploded Harry was in no mood to appreciate the irony. They were duelling in earnest now, with owls fluttering around and hooting in confusion.

Harry hit James with a powerful Stunner, and after a short exchange with Sirius finally was able to disarm, bound and gag him. His forehead throbbing like hell, Harry rather thought his face was as disfigured as the day he was caught by Snatchers. He tried to undo the hex without much success.

"Damn, but you are good, James," he muttered.

Magicing both boy into a secluded nook, Harry bound James as well and then revive him before removing Sirius's gag. Sirius was sporting his fall-back stoic expression, but James did not appear to have lost his aggressiveness.

"Where is my Cloak," the boy demanded, "you cannot just steal it like that!"

What in the Merlin's name was Grandfather Potter thinking, giving the damn thing to a first year, Harry wondered not for the first time.

"A theft, was it?" he said coolly. "That's a serious accusation. Care to repeat it to McGonagall?"

James bit his lip.

"Look, it's an heirloom. It's been in the family for ages."

"And your family are all in Gryffindor, right? Is that your notion of chivalry, to attack from behind, two to one while invisible?"

That shut the boy up, but Sirius felt compelled to defend his friend.

"That was a prank, not a duel," he reasoned.

"Right. What would the prank entail exactly?"

There was a pause.

"You want that cloak back, you better start talking, guys. And don't bother to lie."

"Why, are you a Legilimens?" Sirius asked belligerently. He wasn't looking Harry in the eye, he noticed.

"No, but I am not a moron either. No do I suffer them gladly," Harry added pointedly.

"We just wanted to stun you," James said.

"And that's it?" Harry was sceptical. "Not much of a prank."

"The idea was to magic you on the roof and leave there petrified," James admitted.

Harry felt fury nearly chocking him.

"We figured to leave you there until breakfast," Sirius clarified.

Without another word Harry summoned the cloak and got rid of the slime.

"Silencio," he pointed the wand at both pranksters.

"Here you go, Potter," he said. "You cloak, as promised."

He draped the garment over the two boys and left the owlery.

Half an hour later cursing and muttering he was climbing the owlery steps again. It didn't take long for madam Pomfrey to undo the sting. Fortunately the witch knew better that to demand explanations. She did ask what the other guy looked like, however. Harry lied that they'd got away. His first impulse was to let James and Sirius take their own medicine and leave them at the owlery until dawn, but it didn't take him long to realise that he simply couldn't do it. The memories of Draco leaving him invisible, bleeding and petrified on the Hogwarts Express were far too vivid for him to condemn the idiots to the same fate.

On his way to the owlery Harry attempted to rehearse several speeches. He thought alternatively about appealing to their Gryffindor sense of chivalry, threaten them with dire consequences should they persist in annoying him, he even seriously considered making a vow of never ever courting Lily (a safe promise to make, had James but knew it). All of these options left him with a bad taste in the mouth, however. Harry hadn't felt that way since he stumbled into Snapes's memory in the Pensieve. Except back then he desperately wanted to talk the matter over with Sirius. Now he felt like he wouldn't want to talk to the two boys ever again.

In the end he simply took the cloak off, undid the spells, retuned to the boys their wands, and left the owlery without a word, deliberately exposing his back, as he headed to the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Racing Brooms

Next morning Harry's mood deteriorated still further. Lena was becoming increasingly revved up about the upcoming match, and could talk of nothing else, even at meals.

"Fox uses Nolde's diagrams for their training sessions," she announced in the accents of gloom.

Harry considered asking how she knew about it, but thought better of it.

"Figures," McLaggen said lazily. "The nerds probably use arithmany models to calculate likely snitch positions."

Harry wandered if someone like Ralf could actually pull that off.

"Van der Velde's flying the new Perseus," Lena glared at Harry, as if it was somehow his fault. "Mind you," she went on, "the girl could outfit the entire team from her pocket change."

"Then everyone would think that she bought her position, instead of earning it," Harry pointed out.

"Well, she'd have to prove them wrong, wouldn't she?" Lena huffed. "See to it that she won't, though," she added in a would-be teasing tone, Harry hated.

Asta Van der Velde was new to her team, having spent two years in reserve. She was a fellow émigré's offspring, her father having fled from Grindelwald's regime in the early 40s. The Van der Veldes were one of the Confederacy more prominent families, but unlike Julius they hadn't been troubled by Grindelwald initially. When they did eventually found themselves at outs with the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, it was far too late for them to make the kind of quiet unobtrusive exit Julius had managed. When a young Theo Van der Velde finally washed up on the Welsh shores, it was only as sole remnant of the once powerful and large family, his nearest kin eradicated, his wealth confiscated and his power broken. At the time Theo had no other recourse but to seek refuge with his distant relation's family. He did not, however, trespass on the Hagel-Pomprington hospitality for long.

Within a couple of years of his arrival the young wizard had patented what was essentially the magic equivalent of the famous Leica camera and founded a company that was still considered a monopolist in the field of magical photography equipment. Not long after that the erstwhile refugee branched out into publishing. Not being an avid reader, Harry had only a vague idea of the Velde Verlag market share, but he knew that most of the Hogwarts's textbooks were printed by Asta's father's publishing house.

Absently Harry marvelled at the Fates' insistence on squaring him off once again with a female Ravenclaw Seeker. Not that he harboured the same mawkish crush on Asta, as he had on Cho, Harry amended. Asta wasn't even pretty. She had almost painfully thin boyish figure, pale, angular face with deep seated, expressive hazel eyes. The unprepossessing brown hair was chopped into a very short bob with an uncompromisingly blunt fringe. That kind of look would be out of date even in the muggle world, Harry suspected, in the wizading one it seemed out of place. Her every day school robs tended to swallow her whole, but it all changed as soon as she mounted her vantage broom. Up in the air decked in the sapphire blue and brilliant bronze of Ravenclaw Asta transformed from an awkward coltish teenager into some elegant, exotic creature, dangerous, and paradoxically feminine. Not that Harry cared. Asta was civil enough with him, since it was the common knowledge that his family had helped her father through the thin years. Yet Harry had a distinct impression, that she resented the fact. After all, somewhat surprisingly for one with her family background, Asta was said to be very much into the whole blood purity thing.

The marauders arriving at the scene interrupted Harry's musing.

"What you were up to the whole night?" Lucretia demanded after taking one look at them. "You look like werewolves on a full moon's eve." Remus visibly flinched.

"Aww, Lu," Sirius flashed his trademark smirk her way, "don't you worry about it, we could always nap through the history of magic."

"Not if you drag Remus into your mischief," Lily pointed out. "He won't be able to lend you his notes, and nobody else will want to."

"Who says we drag him into anything," James grumbled.

"He looks as tired as you guys."

"He is sitting right here," Remus put in.

"Well, if they hadn't corrupted you yet, perhaps, you should stop by the hospital wing and get something for a head cold," Marlene McKinnon suggested. "You don't want to skip the match because of it."

"I am fine", Remus said unhappily.

"What it is with your, ladies, avid interest in our nocturnal activities?" Harry wanted to know.

"You better not have any before the match," Lena muttered.

"The captain wants you frustrated, Harry," Fabian winked spreading butter over his crumpet.

"Hey, whatever works."

"How did you fare with Flitwick?" Harry was genuinely curious.

"Not great," Gideon grimaced.

"Yes, the old codger says we've got to take an extra credit, if we want a pass to the Restricted Section."

"Mind you, it may yet come to that."

"But we won't give up so easily."

"Hey, are you coming with Colvert?"

If he wasn't miserable enough, Harry thought. Colvert managed to arrange the port-keys for the Friday evening, so that his students could watch a broadcast of the Yellow Submarine cartoon at his place. Having never seen it in either life, Harry rather looked forward to the experience, only for Lena to put her foot down and refuse to let him skip the last evening training session before the match on Saturday. Jessica, he knew, fared as badly with Fox.

"It's just as you say," he sighed, "the captain wants me frustrated."

Up in the air, as he finally faced Asta off, checking and blocking her moves experimentally, he realised that Lena's fixation on superior brooms was totally justified. It took him only a few trial moves to ascertain that he had little chance to win on speed alone. In fact, he realised, unless he could spot the Snitch well before Asta, Gryffs were toast.

The Quidditch commentary provided by a six year Ravenclaw Bartholomew 'Bambi' Lasker didn't help either. Not only was he as partisan as Lee Jordan had ever been, Bambi spent ages enumerating the Perseus-Sieg finer points.

"The Nimus models have always had certain instability of balance," Bambi pontificated, completely ignoring a synchronized beater attack on Harry. "It can sometimes result in a broomstick's excitability. See how Hagel moved just now? Jerkily is the kindest way to describe it, and he is a decent flyer too. Now compare it with the Sieg' elegant movements…" Harry zoned out.

Now that he thought of it, he _was_ moving somewhat jerkily, he realised. He knew his trusty broom too well to attribute it to some imaginary flaw in design, though. What was going on? Hastily he whirled around to avoid another bludger, clearing the path for it to hit Asta.

"Careful there, Vee-dee-Vee," Bambi called out. "Did you just see how she went 0-to-40 acceleration in a couple of seconds?! Did you? That's the Sieg for you, guys, German for victory!"

"There was a goal, Lasker!" McGonagall reminded irritably.

"Oh, yeah right. Rivers scores. It's 40-10 to Gryffindor, ladies and gentlemen. Hey! Over there, Asta!"

Harry saw it first, the tiny glimmer of gold near Slytherin stands. He willed his Nimbus to fly as fast as possible when he felt his broom balked. Clinging to it for his dear life Harry was dimly aware of Bambi shouting excitedly, too preoccupied to pay attention. To his horror he felt more than saw, Asta whizzing by him in a blur of blue, and accelerated again. Suddenly, with a sickening cracking sound his broom snapped in two, and he was sent hurtling into the air. Before he could do anything or even form a coherent thought Harry felt himself slowing and floating in midair, like a muggle astronaut in zero gravity. Suddenly Asta materialised at his side.

"Hop up," she commanded, extending a hand. As Harry obeyed she issued an order to her captain to call for a time out. She must have abandoned the pursuit of the Snitch, to save his neck, Harry thought unhappily.

"Uh, thanks," he said, "I am in your debt."

"Hardly," was her curt answer. "Father and myself still owe your folks a few favours."

And you are keeping the score, aren't you, Harry thought, as he watched her self-satisfied smirk.

"Hagel, are you alright?"

"What happened?" Lena and Madame Hooch landed beside them.

Harry shrugged. He was somewhat miffed at Hooch, truth to be told. It was her responsibility to intervene in the case of emergency. She had been totally useless though, and now he was stuck with a life debt to the bloody Van der Velde heiress.

"What do you think did happen?!" McGonagall looked absolutely furious. "Someone must have sabotaged Hagel's broomstick. Professor Flitwick will make a forensic spell-check on the remnants," she added summoning what was left of the Nimbus. "Forty points to Revenclaw, miss Van der Velde."

Asta's expressive eyebrow disappeared behind her fringe.

"Shouldn't your Seeker's life merit at least fifty?" she asked sarcastically.

Lips compressed in disapproval McGonagall glared down at her and left them without a further word in order to talk to Flitwick.

"Right," Lena said assertively. "Harry, you'll have to take Rivers's broom, and he –"

"Hey, that's hardly fair," Harry interrupted.

"Don't be such Hufflepuff," Lena shot back irritably. "Do you want to chase after Van der Velde on a school broom?!"

Reluctantly Harry was forced to admit that that just wasn't feasible.

"You can ride my Comet," James suddenly voiced a suggestion. "What?" he shrugged innocently. "It's a decent broom."

"Question is: what's a first year doing with a broom at all?" Harry marvelled.

"Do you want a broom, or do you want to discuss rules?"

"I want a broom," Harry conceded. "Thanks," he added sourly. He seemed to be destined to become obligated to all the people he wouldn't want to be obligated at any circumstance.

James's Comet was indeed a decent broom, but it was no Sieg either, nor did it in truth stand half a chance against one. Pride abandoned, Harry was reduced to shadowing Asta, watching her like a hawk. He couldn't afford an independent game, not when he knew he stood zero chance to out-fly the rival Seeker. Even Bambi didn't seem to have the heart to gloat over his predicament. Instead the Ravenclaw turned his attention on the Claw's team's newest Chaser. In a span of one game Lasker seemed to have gone from being infatuated with an inanimate object to tumbling head over heels in love with the sexy Chaser.

"Aaand Hallandale scores yet again! You go, girl! Just look at her, it's been three goals in the last half an hour! You guys will boast to your grandchildren how you used to go to school with Jess!"

At least McLaggen seemed to be having pretty lousy time too, Harry thought uncharitably. And he didn't even have the excuse of riding an inferior broom. He squinted down at the Gryffindor's loops and his heart skipped a beat. A couple of feet below the Gryffindor's anxiously hovering Keeper there was an unmistakable glimmer of gold. Harry knew it was his only chance. He was closer to it than Asta; he kicked James's Comet into high gear… and almost immediately heard the familiar whizzing closing on him. He knew he had only a couple of seconds before Asta outdistanced him, he knew it was not enough… Without thinking he abandoned the broom, diving off it headlong down and hooking with his feet at its trunk. As he snatched the tiny winged ball, he saw Asta, her face incandescent with fury, as she was elegantly coming out of the deep dive and flying off, leaving him to dangle helplessly topsy-turvy and sliding inexorably towards the broom's handle. The girl apparently decided that saving his neck once in one game was more than enough.

Fortunately, before he tumbled off the broom, Hooch and Mc Laggen who was the closest Gryff player to him both flied up to Harry and vaulted him back on the broom. It was so not his day, Harry thought dully. Now he had _McLaggen_ of all people to be grateful to. Not that the other boy could do anything _but_ come to his rescue, what with the Snitch having been there at his right heel.

"Dropping off the broom twice in one game and still catching the Snitch, that's the one for the record books!" Bambi shouted. "'Course with only fifty points gap Ravenclaw will still have a pretty decent chance of winning the tournament. You can't always rely on freaky accidents to win, folks, it's just not arithmantically feasible. In the end of the day skill is what –" The rest of his rant was drowned by the clamour of the tribunes.

As he landed Harry noticed Asta standing there, apparently waiting for him. She had the time to compose herself, her face a polite mask.

"Good game, Hagel," she said.

"Yeah, it was," Harry offered somewhat helplessly. If it was anyone else he'd say 'you were great' or 'I just lucked-out', or something along those lines, but somehow he didn't think that Asta would appreciate such platitudes. Before he could think of something more appropriate to say, the girl shrugged and with a calm 'see you around' turned and left.

"Well, ain't we pissed off," Lena commented gleefully.

"Great catch!" Harry turned and saw James flashing a first genuine smile his way.

"Thanks. And thanks for the broom."

"No problem. Can I have it back, please?"

"Indeed, Mr. Potter, you can't!" McGonagall interrupted their exchange. Great timing, Harry thought, listening to her stern lecturing.

Later, as they were celebrating in the Common Room, Harry picked up a couple of butterbeers and approached the marauders.

"Here," he gave them the bottles, "listen, James, I am sorry I got you in trouble."

"S'allright," the boy said sullenly. "Not you fault".

"Do you have any ideas on who'd jinxed you broom?" Sirius asked.

"Not really. Though, it's got to be a Gryffindor. I've never left it outside the tower."

"Oh. Are we under suspicion?"

"Not really. Harry chuckled at the boys expressions. They didn't seem to know whether to be gratified or insulted.

"I know you guys are good," Harry clarified. "But the spellwork involved is simply too sophisticated for a first-year to pull off. The hurtling jinx wasn't even timed, it was keyed to acceleration. Pretty neat," he acknowledged grudgingly.

"So you think we didn't try to kill you because it too much work, not because it's unethical," Sirius wanted to know.

"I'd like to think you wouldn't _want_ to kill me, of course," Harry answered mildly. "You guys make dangerous enemies." And so do I, he left unsaid.

"Hmm," James smirked impishly. "You _did_ cost me a detention."

"In magic it's the intention that counts," Harry countered. "And you should have waited until we were in the Common Room, anyway."

"I suppose. Shall we drink to our truce then?"

"Great idea," Harry drank his butterbeer. "Oh, no, they are at it again!" The twins were attempting to cover _Satisfaction_. "Why hasn't anyone jinxed _that_ bloody thing?" Harry muttered referring to the guitar.

It was into small hours in the morning when Harry and the other Gryffindor boys finally retired to their dormitories. Andy Ridge, a muggleborn in Harry's year was first to enter their room when he startled and gave out an unmanly squeak. The other boys barged in their wands out only to find Sinister sitting nonchalantly on Harry's four-poster, a sizable book pile on her either side and an elongated parcel across her knees.

"Niz! What are you doing here? Everything alright at home, is it?" Harry asked concerned.

"Shipshape, Master Harry." Inexplicably Sinister delighted in picking muggle expressions from Martin's muggle customers. "Master Ralf wishes for you and the Messrs Prewetts to have these," the elf gestured at the book piles.

Gideon was baffled.

"Why would your brother take such undue interest in our intellectual development?"

"And what is this?" Fabian zeroed on the parcel.

"Master Ralf's broom," the Elf said placidly. "Master Ralf says Master Harry is to use it for the time being."

"Oh," now that he'd flied against a Sieg, Harry wasn't about to refuse Ralf's handsome offer. "How did he know about that so fast though?" Harry was puzzled. To his knowledge, there wasn't a Hagel's or a Popmrington's portrait in Hogwarts. Could Nick contact the family somehow?

Sinister rolled her expressive saucerlike eyes.

"Professor McGonagall called and talked to the Master;" she said. "Mistress was in the right state. Told Master to contact that Crouch wizard, she did."

"Oh. Well, thanks, Niz."

"Sinister lives to serve," the elf dismissed. "Master Ralf also compiled the notes," she said brandishing two thick scrolls to Harry and the twins.

"I bet, he did," Fabian muttered skimming through theirs. "Send him our thanks, will you?"

"Sinister will convey your gratitude to the young master," was the dignified reply. "Sinister must go back now." She nodded and disapparated with a slight pop.

Not one to stand on ceremony Gideon tore off the wraps from Ralf's broomstick and yelped.

"What?..."

"Is that?

"It is!"

"Merlin's balls, how come your brother has a better broom than you do?!"

Not about to expound on Ralf's past difficulties and family fears Harry tried to offer some plausible excuse for the broom disparity.

"Dad bought me the best broom on the market last year. This year Grandfather bought the best available model for Ralf."

"I'll say," Benjy Fenwick said enviously. Ridge still seemed too traumatized by the Sinister's visit to care about brooms.

"What _was_ that?" he demanded.

"A house-elf," Harry decided to forgo detailed explanations. "There are loads of them in Hogwarts, you know. The mostly keep to themselves though."

Meanwhile the twins were eagerly perusing Ralf's annotations to the books he'd sent.

"Hey, Ralf's as bad as McGonagall," Gideon observed. "Good thing he can't demand a twenty-feet essay from us."

"Hmm…," Harry was reading though his own scroll. Most of the books were on the general theory and history of animagi transformations, as well as the relevant legislation and case history. Harry decided to look into them later, and latched on the practical manuals.

He'd have to put the Room of Requirement to good use for the animagi experimentation. The Room remained one of the secrets he had yet to share with the twins. Partly because it would be difficult to explain his knowledge, partly because it was simply too delicious secret to share. However, as Ralf sensibly pointed out in his scroll, it would be simply too irresponsible for a third-year to attempt such monumental project without a proper back-up. The twins too might need a place to experiment. In the end Harry decided to sleep on it. He put the manuals and the scroll to his bedside table, swiping the rest of the books in the trunk. As he did, he caught sight of a slim volume at the bottom of the pile. "Myths or Magical Reality. The Labours of Animagi", the title read. Harry hastily consulted Ralf's scroll. Paolo Hernandez's work merited the briefest of descriptions on the list. "Basically a compendium of animagi-related South- and Mesoamerican lore. Pretty unreliable, though an engrossing read." Harry hesitated for a moment and put Hernandez's book on the top of the manuals.

Though they had no practice on Sunday, next morning the entire team, the reserve, and a couple of dozens of other Gryffs, as well as on-lookers from other houses, were found on the Quidditch pitch ogling, fondling and otherwise admiring Ralf's Sieg. The fact that Harry was second person at school flying the best model on the market elicited as much gossiping as the fact that the Sieg actually belonged to his younger brother. One, who hadn't even started Hogwarts yet.

"So is your brother a killer flyer or what?" Sirius asked.

Harry didn't want him to get the wrong idea so he tried to strike a balance between the truth and family loyalty.

"He's fine, but I think he actually prefers horses."

Sirius nodded, as if Harry just confirmed his darkest suspicions.

"And does he have some kick-ass thoroughbred Abrahan or Granian as well?"

"Dad's breeding horses, so there are many to choose from at the estate."

"Muggle or magical?"

"Both."

"Isn't that, like, against the Stature?" Daisy Sackville, a pretty Ravenclaw (who showed in Harry's opinion extremely bad judgement in dating McLaggen) wanted to know.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"The stature is for humans, not animals," he said irritably. "When you eat pork chops at dinner, you don't think they come from some magical flying pigs, do you?"

"Speaking of laws and loopholes," James grinned slyly. "The rules only say that I am not allowed to _bring_ a broomstick here. There was nothing in my letter about not riding one. I don't suppose…?"

"Sure," Harry handed him the broom, "I owe you one." He was actually more than a little curious to see James fly.

It didn't take long to ascertain that the boy was an extraordinary flyer. After flying for a quarter of an hour and trying a few extremely risky manoeuvres he finally landed, windswept and grinning ecstatically. Only to be accosted by an equally elated Lena.

"Potter! You are officially a reserve Chaser as of now! Can you hit your folks for a better broom next year? Murphy's graduating, so there will be a vacancy." Stebbins looked furious at her speech, Harry noticed.

"Oh, yeah, I am totally putting a Sieg on my Christmas list," James replied eyes glazed. "Here you go, mate," he handed the broom back to Harry, "you are hereby forgiven for landing me in detention."

"Well, that's a relief," Harry was only partly joking.

Finally mounting his broom, Harry tried a few near suicidal dives, and tested acceleration to the limit, and had to admit that it was almost as good as his much-missed Firebolt. He wondered how much exercise Ralf had managed, if any. Harry was amusing himself with a mental picture of Nutty sitting atop the Sieg behind Ralf, and berating him every time he attempted anything other than a sedate pace. Though really, now that he thought of it, it wasn't that amusing. Harry would have to do something to get the annoying elf off his brother's back. Literally.

His musings were suddenly interrupted as a familiar slim figure whooshed past him at a breakneck speed.

"So how does it feel to ride a proper broom?" Asta asked as she braked a few feet past Harry and swung one leg nonchalantly to seat side-saddle.

Harry had to admit, at was a neat trick.

"Different," he said. It's not like there was anything improper about his Nimbus, he grumbled mentally.

Asta stretched lazily and crossed her legs, for all the world as if she was a muggle trapeze gymnast.

"Since we are on an equal footing now, so to speak, can I interest you in a race?"

"Um, sure," Harry said ineloquently. "What are the terms?"

"That would be for our seconds to determine," Asta pointed out.

"OK, I name the Prewett twins, who are yours?"

The girl frowned.

"Surely two seconds is overkill," she complained. "I guess it can't be helped when you are best friends with twins. I'll send someone to them."

"Fine," Harry wondered if she was short of friends to act as seconds. She was something of a loner from what he could see.

"I can ask one of them," Harry offered.

The girl didn't look gratified.

"No, that's fine", she replied haughtily, straddled her broom again, and went in an almost vertical dive.

"So, first you duel over a girl, and now you just duel a girl. You are a dangerous person to know," Fabian said.

"Racing isn't duelling."

"Same difference. Either way, it's all down to satisfaction," Gideon smiled.

The rules they had eventually agreed on were in Harry's opinion ridiculous in their complexity. They had to fly around the lake meticulously tracing its contour. To make sure that neither of them would cut the corners, Bambi, who was one of Asta's seconds, had come up with the Ariadne Thread charm. Apparently, it was something Gringott's curse-breakers had invented when they started to explore the pyramids of Giza. Bambi had modified the spell for broom users, and made sure that Harry's and Asta's threads were of different colours. It was an impressive magical feat, Harry acknowledged, but hardly the best way to race.

"Can't we, I dunno, just fly from the Astronomy Tower to Shrieking Shack and back?" Harry grumbled to the twins.

"Not much entertainment in that," Gideon explained apologetically.

"I thought it was about satisfaction?"

"Not much satisfaction without entertainment."

They were right about entertainment, Harry thought ruefully, as nearly half of the school population congregated around the lake, despite it being the Hogsmeade weekend. Bambi gave the signal, and off they went leaving behind their brooms blue and red coloured tails, as though they were planes at some fancy muggle avia-show. Harry tried doggedly to stick to the rules, but it turned out to be impossible to fly along the bank-line without actually cutting a corner once in a while. In the end Harry got to the finish a second ahead of Asta, but after a careful examination of their threads all the seconds agreed that the Ravenclaw executed her flight with more precision. With a flourish Bambi raised his wand, entwined the two threads into one and made it roll itself into a huge ball. He then presented it to Asta as a trophy.

"Thanks," clutching the ball to her chest, the girl picked up her broom, and ran to the castle, an uncharacteristically wide happy grin on her face.

"Hey, good show," Sirius called out.

"Not much of a race though," Lena opined.

Harry shrugged. In truth, he didn't mind Asta's winning the race, as long as Gryffindor kept winning matches.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5. Troubles

"Hey, Hagel! A note for you," a Happlepuff Harry didn't recognise gave him a bit of parchment with all too familiar handwriting. Dumbledore wanted him in his office.

Harry was so startled he nearly forgot he wasn't supposed to know the way past the gargoyles. Fortunately Nick was floating by, looking at once curious and solicitous, and Harry went through the charade of asking him to be his guide. The ghost was trying to give Harry some (mostly unhelpful) tips on how to conduct himself with the Headmaster, but Harry was too busy wondering what he had done to attract the man's notice and whether "Mozartkugel" was chosen as a password for his benefit, to pay attention. Luckily Nick, rather than thinking him churlish, attributed his unresponsiveness to the anxiety any student was bound to feel when summoned to the headmaster's office.

The circular room was exactly as he remembered it, complete with portraits faking sleep in their frames and the assortment of silver instruments on the man's desk. Fawkes was nowhere to be seen, but the Headmaster wasn't alone. There was a man standing so straight he might have had a broomstick shoved up his ass, Harry thought. He was wearing plain-cut, yet expensive looking navy blue robes, and the expression on his long thin face that was at once unreadable and implacable.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dumbledore? Hello, Mr. Crouch," Harry had no trouble recognising the Head of the Law Enforcement. It had something to do with the jinxed Nimbus, then.

"Oh, so you've met already. Good, good. Come in, Mr. Hagel, take as seat," Dumbledore made a welcoming gesture. Crouch nodded his greeting, and took a seat to Harry's right and across the Headmaster.

"I am here to make inquires into the broom incident at your match with Ravenclaw," Crouch was not the one for small talk, obviously.

"Yes, Sir. I appreciate your taking your time."

Crouch nodded without disclaiming. They all knew that it wouldn't normally be a matter for someone of his rank to look at it personally. He was clearly here as a favour to Harry's Father and Grandfather.

"Tell us what happened," he ordered.

Harry gave a brief account of the incident.

"What do you think was the cause of the broomstick's malfunction?"

"It must have been jinxed, Sir. I cannot think of any other explanation. A Hurtling Jinx or some modification of it, I believe. I think it was triggered when I used acceleration. Whenever I upped the tempo the broom started to move jerkily, and when I finally pushed it to the speed limit it snapped and sent me hurtling into the air."

"Hmm," Crouch scribbled something in his notebook. "Well, that's what I was told that had happened. I will of course have to look into you mind to examine the memory properly, but –"

"No!" the panicked response was out of Harry's mouth before he had time to think of more diplomatic answer. Dumbledore, he noticed, look annoyed at Crouch's presumption. Crouch gave Harry an even more annoyed look.

"There is nothing to be afraid of. It's not painful, and not likely to cause any damage. It is your own interests not to hamper the investigation, Mr. Hagel," he said impatiently.

"Barty," Dumbledore started, but Harry talked over him.

"I am sorry, Sir, but I am simply not comfortable with the idea of exposing my mind," he said firmly. "There were quite a few adults, watching the match, I am sure they will be able to extract the relevant memories for you to peruse in the Pensieve."

"Quite right," Dumbledore was regarding Harry curiously. "Both Filius and Minerva were present, and will, I am sure, gladly provide the requisite memories. You are welcome to use my Pensieve, while you are here, Barty. I cannot stress how grateful I am that you are conducting the investigation personally, my dear boy," he added diplomatically.

"Very well," Crouch looked anything but gratified, but dropped the matter. He also – being either in his mid-forties or early fifties – didn't seem to relish being address as "dear boy", Harry surmised. He wondered if Dumbledore was being obnoxious on purpose. "Who has had the access to your broomstick?" Crouch pursued.

Harry hesitated.

"I don't see how it could have been anyone, but a Gryffindor, Sir. None of us would dream to leave our brooms unattended outside the tower, especially before the match."

"You think it was sabotaged prior to the match?"

"Yes, it was working normally when we trained. Unless there was the timing spell on top of everything else," Harry amended.

Crouch scribbled a few more notes.

"Do you have enemies in your house?"

"I've had an occasional quarrel. Nothing that would make anyone to want me dead, though."

"Have you not fought a duel recently?"

How the hell has Crouch found that out already?! Harry squinted at Dumbledore. The old man looked startled, and then amused in quick succession.

"I have, yes. But no one was injured, and my adversary formally apologised. I don't believe he has anything to do with that."

"You said no one was injured, and yet the school Matron tells me she treated you for a Stinging Hex recently."

Harry must have looked as betrayed as he felt, since Dumbledore felt it behoved him to intercede on Madam Pomfrey behalf.

"There was an attempt on your life, Mr. Hagel. Every line of inquiry should be pursed, as Madam Pomfrey well understands."

It was going to be the most unpleasant interview, after all. Harry described the duel with Stebbins in detail. He did not even leave out the snake bit, since MacLaggen was in truth a more likely culprit, than Stebbins to Harry's way of thinking. Both adults were frowning at him when he got to that part, no doubt being aware of the Hagel family's parseltongue abilities.

"And what of the Stinging hex?"

"It was nothing, Sir, a prank gone wrong."

"You are wasting my time here, Mr. Hagel"

"I was attacked outside the Gryffindor Tower. The attacker was invisible."

"Doesn't sound like prank to me."

"They didn't attempt anything truly dangerous, whoever they were. It escalated when I retaliated a trifle too forcefully."

"Hmm. Where were you at the time?"

"The owlery."

"I insist on accessing your memory, since there were no adult witnesses."

"I am sorry, Sir, but I have not studied Occlumency. I cannot agree to a mind invasion, while I have no way to protect my memories."

Crouch was incensed.

"Are you suggesting, that I would somehow sabotage you memories?! I am here to help you, boy!"

Harry was trying frantically to think of an appropriate answer, when Dumbledore once again firmly intervened on his behalf.

"I am afraid, I couldn't allow this even if Mr. Hagel were agreeable, dear boy," he said apologetically. You know the rules, Barty, since Harry here is underage, we would have to apply to his parents for the permission first."

Crouch shrugged impatiently.

"I am here on Martin Hagel's behest."

"I appreciate it, Sir, truly. It's just that I really abhor the idea of mind invasions," Harry was looking carefully down, at this stage. He was fairly certain that he would notice his mind being probed, but wasn't about to risk being wrong.

"Understandably so, I am sure," Dumbledore said placidly. "I think it's best if you could interview Filius now," he turned to Crouch. "The forensic he'd done was very thorough; I think it'll be of interest to you."

"Can I go now, Professor," Harry asked eagerly.

"Certainly, my boy," Dumbledore answered before Crouch could put his foot down.

"I will insist on viewing that memory, Mr. Hagel. Expect an owl from your father soon."

With that Harry ran from the circular office and went in search of the marauders.

James looked sulky as Harry pulled him and Sirius out of the dormitory, to warn about the Crouch investigation.

"So it's not enough for you that you landed me in trouble with McGanagall, now you are saying you might sic the bloody Aurors on me?!"

"I _didn't_ sic anyone on you. I don't believe Dad would give Crouch the permission to mess with my head. And it's hardly my fault that Pomfrey ratted on me. All I am saying, be careful with the cloak. Cut down on the midnight excursions and stuff for the time being."

"You didn't have to say anything about invisible opponents."

"Oh? Would you rather I framed some unsuspected Slytherin?" James looked like he found the idea a perfectly reasonable alternative. Harry sighed. "The head of the DLE is here on my father's request to investigate a murder attempt. I had to give him _something_, you know."

"But you told him everything about the duel?" Sirius interjected.

"Everything, except the unseen on-lookers, yes. The duel wasn't exactly a secret."

"Hypothetical on-lookers," the boy smirked. "Did you tell him about the snake?"

"Yes. It's not an Unforgivable Curse, you know."

"Still pretty spooky, though. Bet, Crouch wasn't favourably impressed."

"Yeah, he doesn't seem to be my biggest fan."

"Well, you are now in the select company with my Grandfather. Crouch hates him with passion," Sirius observed.

"Huh," that would explain how Sirius had never got his trial, Harry thought.

"Not surprising, is it?" James snorted. "You grandfather has a certain _faiblesse_

for all thing Dark."

"It's all about politics, actually. Grandfather was against his appointment."

"All the more reason for you to keep a low profile." Harry said, making a note to self to find out what sort of bone Crouch had to pick with Sirius's family. "Which grandfather is that?" he asked.

"Pollux. How do you now my folks?"

"Heard of them. My father is a member of Wizengamot."

"Do you think Crouch will interview Evans?" James asked frowningly.

"I didn't er… implicate her. Said I'd taken exception to Stebbins's m-word usage because of Mum."

"Stebbins and McLaggen will likely rectify that," Sirius warned.

"Why should they? Picking on a first year doesn't exactly make them look good."

"Are you still working on the assumption that it was a Gryff?" James wanted to know. "The spell-work would point to a Ravenclaw."

Harry shook his head. "They'd have to have help from the tower," he said.

"That doesn't eliminate us," Sirius pointed out. "I could smuggle your broom for someone like Bambi to spell." James looked nonplussed.

"Do you _want_ me to rat on you to Crouch?" Harry asked irritably.

"No, just don't get why'd you go easy on us." Sirius looked at him intently.

Harry sighed. "I _like_ you," he said, "though I might reconsider that, if you keep insisting on being annoying prats. For what it's worth, I don't believe you guys tried to kill me."

James didn't seem to have found anything wrong with that reasoning, but Sirius looked bemused. "And you didn't say anything about Van der Velde, because you like her too?"

"There is nothing to _say_, about Asta," Harry was exasperated. "Except that she saved my neck. I did mention that bit, don't worry." Harry felt thoroughly fed up with the conversation. "Right. I am 've been warned."

The next couple of days passed in a flurry of owls and an occasional raven. Minnie (the family snowy owl), Floyd and Gordon all were carrying letters, notes and even a Howler. (Harry succumbed to the stress, and send one to his Grandfather. Julius seemed to like Crouch well enough, and had argued that legilimency, was unpleasant, but necessary means to the end.) For the moment Harry's obstinacy seemed to have won the day, but his family was worried, and just as obstinate about getting to the bottom of the matter. Harry knew they wouldn't leave well alone, and even advised James to send the cloak back home for the duration of the investigation.

Thankfully it wasn't the only thing to occupy his thoughts. He finally broke down and 'fessed up to the twins about the Room of Requirement. They were appropriately amazed, and postponed their project in favour of conducting some extremely risqué experiments with it. For his part Harry was astounded that none of those had even occurred to him during his teenage years first time around. He could see that his friends at least were going to use the Room for more than just pranking and magical research. When they finally got down to the latter Harry started to feel somewhat daunted by the complexity of his undertaking. He couldn't properly say to have understood half of the theory that was mentioned in the manuals as a matter of course. It seemed that he would have to study all the fusty tomes Ralf had sent to him after all.

There was some fascinating new gossip as well. McLaggen suddenly became a topic of everyone's conversation when he broke up with the pretty and popular Daisy Sackville and took up with a Gryffindor seventh year Maud Dern. There were so much wrong about that development that the entire school had been buzzing for days. Maud was a pureblood from an ancient house, but that was about the only thing to recommend her. The family had frittered their fortune and standing a few generations back, and it showed, as the girl had to buy all her things second-hand, and had next to no pocket money. Someone like Ginny might not have allowed trifles like that to slow them down, but Maud was tall, lanky and plain with pale long horsy face, her unattractiveness accentuated by long, shapeless conservative clothing. Everyone knew her home situation was dismal what with a useless moocher of a father and a mother working for peanuts as an apothecary's assistant. Essentially Maud was a female version of Snape, only completely friendless and not that gifted magically. She was a decent potion-brewer though. Because of that and her unfortunate looks she was given a cruel nickname 'Antidote'.

It was inconceivable that McLaggen, who regarded himself as the Prince of Gryffindor, would look twice at such a girl. She was much older, unpopular and was deemed ugly. Harry could well remember McLaggen himself calling her Antidote, sometimes even in her hearing. Recalling Merope Gaunt, Harry even half suspected the foul play, but if anyone showed the signs of sick devotion, it was Maud, while McLaggen was being his usual obnoxious self, preening and strutting and sneaking glances at the Ravenklaw table. That Daisy instead of laughing her head off at this turn of events was said to be completely devastated by McLaggen's betrayal was even more incomprehensible to Harry. He also couldn't quite get past the queer coincidence of Crouch starting his investigation and McLaggen damping Daisy. In his guts Harry knew there was something there that begged for a second look, but he couldn't even begin to connect the dots.

What with the fascinating new scandals and piled up homework Harry and the twins were sitting in the Common Room writing essays for a change when a very pale and ill-looking Remus approached them with some intimidating looking volume.

"Are you, guys still interested in that Aztec thing?" he asked.

"Sure," Gideon said. "Did you find anything?"

"Not much. I, uh, needed time to settle down and then I got sick…"Remus trailed blushing.

"Well, it's not exactly your responsibility," Harry interjected. "Anything you've done is greatly appreciated."

"Right. I haven't found anything about the amulet itself," but there is something on the whole Cortes debacle."

"Well," Fabian said. "Spill."

"It's about the gold. Basically the entire expedition was the brainchild of the Supreme Magus of the Pyrenean Assembly, Aron the Beardless. You see the Inquisition had been busy rounding witches and wizards, and what with Aron being a Moor on top of everything else…"

"Wait," Harry interjected, "Why would that even matter? For the wizards, I mean. Didn't Wendolin the Weird let herself burned like hundred times?"

Remus shook his head.

"Wendolin was a Derbyshire witch," he dismissed. "British wizards were pretty united against the Church fundamentalists, but in Spain there were quite a few who offered their services to Torquemada. He was himself a squib, so he was well-versed in the wizading culture, and well-connected too."

"That's daft," Gideon said, "why would they do that?"

"Internal squabbles," Remus said impatiently. "They hoped to topple Aron. Anyway, the wizards of the New World didn't embrace wand magic, and as a result they lived in harmony with other magical races. Goblins in particular loved to work with them and let them use their gold without the usual bitchiness and the exorbitant fees. The old world wizards reckoned that such state of affairs undermined their policies. So after Torquemada finally croaked, Aron saw an opening to stump out the opposition. He first arranged for the election of a Spanish Pope with ties to the Pyrenean Assembly, and once Borgia was installed sold him on the idea that plundering the Goblin gold in the New World was the surest way to replenish the Papal Treasury. In exchange he called the Inquisition off Aron's back. And of course Aron saw the weakening of the Goblins as a bonus. Mind you Borgia died before these plans came to fruition, but even his more fundamentalist successors weren't immune to the idea of quantities of gold coming their way."

"That's why they were so eager to melt artefacts into ingots?" Harry asked fascinated. "So they couldn't be traced?"

"It's probably more to do with the fear of Goblin magic," Remus said pensively. "Aron dispatched a few wizards with Cortes, but wizading magic is different, they were probably just covering their asses."

"So how come our amulet is not Goblin-made?"

"I don't know," Remus sounded absurdly apologetic. "Some sources state that by the time Cortes showed-up there appeared a few human goldsmiths and even smithies that worked bronze…The trouble is, these are muggle sources so they are incomplete…"

"Why couldn't Goblins just sell Aztecs some iron weapons if they were so friendly?"

"Goblins have a firm policy on not arming humans," Remus sounded surprised at Harry's ignorance. "It would be like wizards selling goblins a few wands."

"Huh," no wonder Griphook was so agitated about the sword, Harry thought. "Could it be a muggle artefact?" Harry wondered.

"Right," Fabian snorted. "You weren't there when that thing was de-cursed. If muggles are capable of that—"

"I know, but it is perfectly possible to enchant a muggle object."

"Even is the artefact is a muggle one, the creature depicted is magical, if extinct," Remus pointed out.

"Is it?" Harry and Gideon chorused.

"Of course," Remus looked at them surprised. "Quetzalcoatl was like Mesoamerican Merlin and Arthur in one."

"You gotta be kidding," Harry felt his brains melting. "Are you saying that this plumy snake thing is actually some kind of ancient animagus?"

"The Feathered Serpent," Remus corrected. "Or the Flying Reptile. And yes."

Before Harry could consult Hernandez on the subject of Mesoamerican most famous amimagus he had a letter to Ralf to owl. On his way back from the owlery he made a detour to a bathroom only to stumble on James and Sirius who were busy trying to change a Petrified Snape's tie into the Hufflepuff colours.

"Expeliarmus! Finite Incantatem! I see you two are back to two-on-one chivalrous pranking," Harry was too tired to manage righteous indignation.

"What do you care?" Sirius demanded exasperated.

"Fortunately for you, I don't. I am not a prefect, thank Merlin," Harry sneered. He tossed all three boys their wands. "Scram," he ordered turning away.

He heard Snape shouting some nasty hex, and James following with the disarming jinx. Immediately his back exploded in searing pain. Harry hissed, and torn off his robes and shirt, craning his neck to see his back in the bathroom mirror. Sure enough his entire right side was covered with ugly looking festering boils.

"You little dunderhead!" he rounded on a newly disarmed Snape. "You do realise that there are senior Aurors in the school right this moment investigating the broom incident?"

Snape paled.

"I've nothing to do with that!"

"Yeah? Good luck telling that to the Aurors. They've got a murder attempt on their hands and the whole lot of nothing to go on. The only persons of interest are well-connected purebloods. What do you bet that they won't take one look at you and think you'll make a perfect scapegoat?"

Snape was staring at him with wide open horrified eyes.

"I—" he stopped obviously fighting tears.

"Do you know how to reverse it?"

"Not with a spell. You'll need a strong boil solution."

"Then you'd better brew it, wouldn't you?"

"How? I mean, where? I can't exactly set up a lab in my dormitory."

"That's not my problem," Harry said coldly. "And hurry up, you've got exactly twenty four hours, before I go to Pomfrey," Harry glanced at his watch. "You are not my friend, Severus, so I won't play martyr even a second longer for you, understand?"

"Why are you playing martyr at all then?" Snape was scowling at him suspiciously.

"Because now you'll owe me a favour, and one day I'll be sure to call it in."

Snape nodded, snatched his wand from James's slackened grip, and ran out of the bathroom.

Wincing at the throbbing pain in his back Harry examined the ruined robes and shirt.

"Not good," he stated resignedly. "Could you, guys, ask the twins to get me something to wear? I am not up to transfiguring stuff right now."

"You'll never last twenty four hours without the numbing potion," James frowned.

"I'd better," Harry grimaced, "What with my life supposedly in danger, Pomfrey would be sure to alert the Aurors, if I ask so much for a headache remedy."

An hour or so later Harry was sitting on his four-poster gritting his teeth in pain and trying to distract himself with the Hernandez's book. James was right, he acknowledged, he overestimated his tolerance to pain. He wondered what would happen if he broke down in the middle of Transfiguration. And what of the Quidditch practice tomorrow? Not good. Why he was even covering for that little git?

"Hey, Hagel. You busy?" Sirius interrupted his miserable ruminations.

"What is it," Harry snapped.

"Just thought you might like some of this," Sirius smirked brandishing a vial with purple liquid. The numbing potion.

"How did you get it?"

"We have our ways."

"I bet you do. Thanks!"

"There was the boil solution too in the cabinet, but I figured you'll want to hold Snivellus to your bargain."

"Not especially. But I appreciate the thought."

"If you don't want a favour from him, why did you say you do?" Sirius sounded baffled.

"I said it because that's the reasoning he understands. He'd never believe it if said I don't want to get him in trouble. Besides, I might well need a favour one day."

"Why do you care one way or another? Or do you like _him_ as well?"

Harry sighed, and drank the potion.

"Not really. He isn't very likable, is he? You can be as much of a git as him, when you want to, Sirius. And I know better than anyone that some of your pranks are downright malicious. Yet most people can't help liking you and James. It's not fair, you know. Lily is about the only good thing that has happened to Snape in all his wretched existence and I just don't want to add to his misery, if I can help it."

"What do you know of his existence?"

"Apart from the fact that you and James are the bane of it? All his things are second-hand and his cloths don't even fit properly. His personal hygiene sucks, he is socially inept and emotionally stunted. You can tell he is from a very unhappy home, it's not exactly the twelve uses of dragon blood."

"You don't need to be from a happy home to know how to wash your hair!"

"I suppose not. You need to be _taught_ these things though. It is pretty obvious that he wasn't. I understand his mother is a witch, and yet she can't be bothered to resize his cloths, never mind find shirts that don't look like girls' blouses. What chance does he have to be a normal kid?"

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Watch it: you are going to be beatified any moment now," he snorted.

"You didn't say so when I kept _you_ two out of trouble," Harry said evenly. "Anyway, thanks. This stuff is working."

Next morning another Puff he didn't recognise gave Harry a note with in Dumbledore's spiky handwriting. He was expected at the Headmaster's office at six. Fortunately Snape came through with the potion well before that time, for as soon as Harry came into the circular room he realised that he'd need all his wits about him. Unnumbed.

This time McGonagall and his father were present, and instead of Crouch a slightly younger Auror with a distinctive leonine head as yet unmarred with silver was sitting across Dumbledore's desk. Before Harry had time to decide whether he was better or worse off with Scrimgeour instead of Crouch, Dumbledore introduced the man and explained that since Harry's parents had refused to give their agreement to legilimency he would have to undergo a questioning under Veritaserum. That was probably why Crouch had bailed on the investigation, Harry realised. He wouldn't have taken kindly to Martin's refusal. Judging by Scrimgeour's expression the Auror deemed the task well beneath his dignity. That could actually be to Harry's advantage. After all, with Veritaserum everything depends on the person who asks questions. If Harry could manage to keep his wits about him he just might be able pull through it without implicating the marauders. Well, he'd just have to. He'd resisted Voldemort's Imperius at fourteen; he should be able to handle Scrimgeour.

"I understand, Sir," he nodded to the Headmaster.

A/N:

There was some concern that Harry is depicted in my story as not a very good flyer or a very able wizard. That's not how I see it. In canon Harry was a great flyer, yes, but he had always had superior brooms. At one point Draco had a slightly newer model, but he was a worse flyer. And then Harry got his Firebolt and that was that. No one could hope to keep up, no matter how good they were. I thought it would be interested to see for once how he would fare against a very good flyer on a better broom. And he still won the match! So he _is_ really very good.

As for his magic. In canon Harry performed extraordinary feats in extraordinary circumstances. Outside those circumstances he was neither overly gifted, not particularly ambitious. In my story he is actually both talented and accomplished beyond his years (and there going to be more on that as the story progresses). He had no trouble winning his duel against older students. And he certainly drew on his superior experience during the owlery skirmish. I mean he didn't know any of those hexes at thirteen in canon. But I think it is important to remember that the marauders (and Snape, for that matter) were quite extraordinary in their own right in canon. Everyone said so. So I didn't want it to be too easy a victory. Besides, I think all too powerful Harry would be a bit boring…


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Harry and Martin were strolling across the large entrance hall, his father having asked Harry to accompany him to Hagrid's Hut after the interrogation.

"That was a very credible performance, Harry," Martin observed mildly as soon as they were out of doors.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily.

"Don't forget, I was an Auror myself. You'd never pull it off if I were the one asking questions. I don't know how Srimgeour could have made it to senior Aurorship, if that's an example of his skills… He didn't even ask you to list all the curses and jinxes that were used at the Owlery."

Harry remained silent. Martin stopped abruptly.

"Look, Harry, I appreciate that you cover for someone. I am sure you've got a good reason for that. But at this point I simply cannot let you to do it. I hope I am not unreasonable. I refused the permission for a Legilimency invasion. That didn't go over well with Crouch, let tell you. I even quarrelled with your Grandfather over it…"

"I am sorry—"

"No, don't be. We _all_ love you, and we are all on your side, even when we are disagreeing over tactics. But you must be reasonable too. Don't you think that in a situation like this your family deserve to know the truth? It was a murder attempt, not some schoolyard prank."

Harry knew himself to be beaten. It was true that all of his family were worried sick over the broom incident. Why should his loyalty to the marauders supersede his loyalty to his actual parents? Martin was right it wouldn't be fair.

"Look, Dad, if I told you, could you keep it secret? I really don't want Aurors to get involved."

"I'll keep it secret, unless I deem it prudent to do otherwise," Martin said implacably.

Sighing Harry launched into an account of the marauders' 'prank' at the owlery. By the time he finished his tale Martin was looking very grim.

"For how long did you leave them under the cloak?"

"A half an hour or so. I came back as soon, as Pomfrey patched me up."

"Being powerless like that even for a few minutes is a harrowing experience," Martin said gravely. "And they couldn't have known that you'd come to release them."

"I know! I mean, I can imagine. I was just furious…"

"I am sure you were. But don't you see that the entire encounter was likely to make either or both of them pretty resentful?"

"It, could, but it didn't. Honestly, Dad, we've been on much better terms ever since…"

"Have you, now. And why were you singled out in the first place?"

Harry sighed. "You remember a first year whose trunk Ralf carried off the platform?"

"Yes, a very pretty redhead. Why?"

"It was at her Stebbins hurled that m-word."

"Mm-hmm. And how does it concern Potter and Black?"

"Potter fancies her. It's pretty one-sided, but he's … territorial, I guess. He and Black make her friend's life hell… And when I duelled basically over her, it was inevitable that I'd become a target."

Martin was frowning at him.

"Speaking of girls. How about Asta?"

"Really, Dad. Why would she do it? Just to win a match? It's ridiculous."

"I don't know her well enough to dismiss it as a motive. Do you? It was her first match on the team, I understand."

"I don't know her at all, but it seems far-fetched. Besides she passed up the opportunity to win and saved my neck instead."

"Maybe she didn't want to kill you. Maybe she wanted to put you under obligation."

Harry had to concede it was an idea that Asta might find attractive.

"It still seems too drastic. I mean, I know your parents helped Theo, but it's not like he owes Grandfather a life-debt…"

"True. I remember you said she was a blood-purist."

Harry shrugged.

"They say she is, but it could just be a rumour. And even if she is, so what? She just wouldn't want to marry me or something."

Martin gave him an odd lopsided smile.

"That's just it. Theo approached me with a contract."

"What?!"

"You needn't look so scared, Harry," he chuckled. "I told him you both are way too young to think of marriage."

"Well then."

"But that's an excuse that will gradually loose its validity."

"Why couldn't you just say that you don't believe in arranged marriages?" Harry grumbled.

"That would be a lie."

"It would?! I don't believe we are even having this conversation! _You_ married for love!"

"I did, and I've been very lucky. Theo too made a love match, but his was a total disaster. My own parents' marriage was arranged, however, and they were very happy together. There is more than one kind of a happy marriage, whatever count Tolstoi may have said on the subject."

"I don't even know what you are talking about," Harry complained. "I am not the nerdy son, remember?"

"Never mind that. You are right though, Asta does seem to be an unlikely suspect. And McLaggen and Stebbins were both questioned under Veritaserum and acquitted."

"Well, if Scrimgeour was the one to do the questioning…"

"Don't you see, Harry," Martin interjected impatiently, "right now Potter and Black are looking the most likely culprits. They are accredited bullies, have penchant for cruel pranks and may well bear you a grudge."

"I know in my guts that it's not them!" Harry insisted stubbornly.

"I won't tell you to not trust your instincts, because they are usually pretty good. But everyone can make a mistake, and with your life in jeopardy, I just cannot afford one. I am sorry, Harry, but I'll pass it on."

"Listen, Dad," Harry said desperately. "I shielded them after the owlery mess. And maybe it was wrongheaded, but I did it, and it would be seriously shabby to snitch on them now!"

"This is not the time for such niceties," Martin's tone was implacable.

"_You_ taught me these niceties!"

Martin stilled.

"You have me there," he acknowledged. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it thoughtfully.

"Very well. I am going to offer you a deal, and it's a final one," he said after a short pause. "I'll pull some strings and get my hands on Veritaserum. You talk to Potter and Black. If they agree to a private questioning and it turns out that they didn't sabotage your broom, there will be no more to be said about it. Their secrets will remain secrets. If they refuse, I'll go straight to Crouch."

And Crouch hated Sirius's family. He'd milk it for what it worth and more, if he had half a chance. Damn. Harry looked at his feet miserably. That was really the best he could do for them. He felt Martin hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, look at me." Martin's usually easy-going expression turned to flint. "I hate to put you on the spot like this, but someone tried to kill you, and I _will_ get to the bottom of it before I am much older!"

"OK."

"Run to the castle now. I don't want you to loiter after dark." Martin squeezed his shoulder and tuned away.

Not looking forward to confronting the marauders Harry was dragging his feet on the way back to the castle. Suddenly he heard someone's steps behind. Clutching his wand, he whirled around.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

There was no answer. Harry was about to cast _Homini Revelium_, when both marauders' disembodied heads appeared a few feet before him.

"Thanks for nothing, Hagel," James was glaring at him, he saw, while Sirius was back to his stoic mask face.

"Eavesdropping, were you? I don't know why you think I owe my first loyalty to you, and not to my father, James," Harry said, manfully ignoring the irony. "At least Dad is a man of his word. If you agree to the questioning and have nothing to do with the broom thing, you are in the clear. You'll be able keep you your cloak and stuff."

"Well, it's not like you left us a choice—" James checked midsentence as they heard someone moan. "What the hell…"

"Let me under the cloak, quick!" Harry ordered. As James started to object, they heard an unmistakable sound of a slap and another moan.

Harry wasn't yet very proficient at casting non-verbally at thirteen, but as the familiar fabric enveloped him, he managed a silent _Maffiato_. Both boys looked askance as they saw an unfamiliar wand movement.

"You don't want to be heard, do you?" Harry said impatiently. "C'mon, it's behind the Greenhouse One."

They rushed to the place only to stop in their tracks goggling in disbelief at the scene unfolding right before their eyes. McLaggen was kissing a girl. That in itself wouldn't be such a revelation if it weren't for the identity of the girl in question. Harry squinted at Sirius. The Black heir was looking incensed and revolted, not that Harry blamed him. How on earth Andromeda Black could stoop to scum like McLaggen, let alone let him treat her that way?! The burly Gryffindor was clutching her thick braid roughly, as he pulled from the kiss.

"Well?!"

"I am sorry, Wulf, forgive me!"

"You are an uppity bitch! You think you can get away with treating me like some riff-raff!" He gave her hair a painful tag. "Huh?!"

"Please, Wulf," she mewed.

By the time Sirius tried to rush from under the cloak, wand at the ready, Harry had recovered his wits.

"Wait, Sirius," Harry caught the younger boy across his chest. "Look, it's not your cousin!"

"What do you mean?! I should know my cousin, thank you very much," the boy bellowed. "He must've drugged her with some love potion or—"

"She's drugged alright," Harry gave mental thanks to Snape and his _Maffiato._ "But it's Polyjuice, not Amortentia. Look at her robes."

Sirius paused long enough to take in the girl's ugly shapeless clothing.

"Are you saying," he said slowly, "that it's in fact Antidote?"

"Yep."

"Wulf! I want you! Please!"

"Urh, let's go away before I become sick," James looked seriously green in the face.

"You don't deserve me," McLaggen was meanwhile saying. "Get on your knees and give me head, Headgirl. And don't take too long, I don't want this stuff to wear off before I come, understand?"

"Let's go," the three of them practically ran from their observation post.

Suddenly Sirius stopped.

"I don't know why I am running when I should be cursing both of them into the next century. It's my cousin they are degrading!"

"If you interrupt now, Dern will be the one in trouble, she's an adult and McLaggen is underage." Harry said.

"Look, Hagel, I don't care how unhappy her home is. This is revolting!"

"I don't care myself, but I don't want McLaggen to get scott-free!"

"You just said that your first loyalty is to your family? Well, I too owe my family something!"

"Shh… I think it's them!" James warned.

Mentally Harry raised his eyebrows. Obviously McLaggen wasn't kidding about not taking time. Hastily the three of them get under the cloak again. Soon they could see Dern and Mclaggen coming their way. Dern was looking herself now.

"How much you still got in that purse?" McLaggen was asking.

"About thirteen galleons."

"What? Did you buy things for yourself as well?"

"I did not! I had to buy all that naughty stuff for Sackville… Though you know, it wouldn't hurt if you gave me something too, now that I am your girlfriend!" The girl replied sourly.

_Definitely_ not a love potion, Harry thought.

"I am not made of galleons," her lover returned even more sourly. "Ok here is another ten," he gave her a few gold pieces. "Next Saturday is a Hogsmead weekend. Buy a nightly in Narcissa's size. Nothing frilly, mind you, just plain virginal stuff," he smirked. This time it took both Harry and James concerted efforts to stop Sirius from rushing at McLaggen. "You still got Daisy's hairs?"

"A few…"

They were nearing the Castle by now, and Harry zoned out.

"Wew," James said as soon as the couple vanished behind the imposing doors. "They must've been harvesting hairs of all the pretty girls in the school!" Suddenly he scowled. "Sirius's right. We can't let them to get away with it!"

"I know. But think, you two. McLaggen dumped Sackville basically the same day Crouch started nosing around. You don't think it is a coincidence? Dern's got to have something to hold over him!"

"I don't care," Sirius said mutinously. "You can play detective all you want. I am going to kill McLaggen and Antidote!"

"Besides, he seems to have the upper hand in their relationship," James added. "He wouldn't, if he were blackmailed, would he?"

Harry shook his head.

"Don't you see, he easily could _both_ have a trophy girlfriend and enjoy their little trysts on the side. I bet it's been going on for some time with them. She is desperate enough to agree to such an arrangement. Probably even to come up with it in the first place… And I bet she's done him other favours beyond sexual ones. That must've been how he passed the questioning. If that prat Srimgeour asked him something like, 'Did you sabotage Hagel's broom? or 'Do you know who sabotaged Hagel's broom' he could answer 'No' to both because it was Dern, who arranged the whole thing for him!"

"Even if you are right, I still can't see how it gives her the upper hand," James said doubtfully. "She can't rat on him if she is herself implicated."

"I am telling you, she's desperate!" Harry said remembering Merope Gaunt. "It's her final year, her time is running out. Once she's out of Hogwarts she'll have no decent job, no boyfriend, nothing. She probably saw the whole thing as a big chance," Harry was thinking aloud. "McLaggen must've been scared shitless when Crouch himself showed up. So he figured he'd go along with her demands for now. At least for as long as Aurors roam the school."

"Whatever," Sirius said sulkily. "I still don't see why you stopped me from killing them."

"Say, Sirius," Harry asked slowly. "What our esteemed Headgirl would do, if we were to disclose to her the tonight's revelations?"

"Kill them both dead," Sirius answered immediately. "Bella might've tortured them first, but Andy wouldn't waste her time on preliminaries."

"Ouch. I guess we'll just have to involve the Headboy as well, then."

"You think that Puff could restrain Andy? Good luck with that!"

"He's got the badge; there must be more to him than meets the eye."

"Why should we—"

"Do you want to be expelled or end up in Azkaban because of this scum?" Harry asked with asperity. "Let's cooperate with Andromeda, and we'll stop these goings-on and make them both pay. You'll see. Revenge is a dish served cold and all that."

This was how they found themselves in the Head Pupils common room perilously close to the curfew.

"He said what?" nostrils flaring, at the moment Andromeda Black's resemblance to her eldest sister was a tad too pronounced for Harry's liking. "Why is he still alive?!" she rounded on her cousin.

"See?" Sirius grumbled to Harry. "Even the Headgirl thinks that killing them was an appropriate course of action. I tried to, but these two stopped me," he added for Andromeda's benefit.

"Quite right," Ted said firmly. "We should take it up with Dumbledore."

"We can always do that later," Harry countered. "Look, you want to avenge the family honour, I want to know who interfered with my broom. Let's kill two birds with one stone."

The haughty brunette looked at him from under the heavy eyelids.

"What do you have in mind?" she asked.

"You'd make a decent Slytherin," Sirius observed as they were nearing Gryffindor Tower.

"Decent?" Harry pretended to take offence. "The Hat said I'd do _great_ there!"

"So how come you are a Gryffindor then?" James asked.

"That's where I wanted to be. Most of my father's family are Gryffindors."

"Unless they went to Durmstrang."

Harry shrugged.

"Nothing wrong with Durmstrang," the school had only become notorious under Karkaroff's tenure, after all.

"Gindelwald went there."

Harry rolled his eyes. "He had to go to school somewhere. Besides, they chucked him when he was sixteen. My Cauldron of Love."

"Urh. Lu must have been Confounded when she chose the password."

"I've head worse," Harry smirked recalling the Crazy Knight's stint as Gryffindor Tower's entrance keeper.

Harry and the twins were sitting in Three Broomsticks drinking butterbeer and discussing the Hernandez book.

"I get that Cortes came to Mesoamerica the same year that Quetzal guy was supposed to return, but even so how could the Aztecs have been so damn gullible?" Gideon shook his head.

"You know how you never see things that are right under your nose, just because you don't expect them to be there? I figure it was the same only in reverse. They were all revved up for the Quetzal's return, _et voilà there came Cortes with Aron's henchmen in tow. They would have had a few tricks up their sleeves, I bet," Harry said._

_"Yes, and the old Aron surely timed the whole thing according to their calendar. No way was it a coincidence… Uh, hello?" Fabian looked up at the Headboy in surprise. _

_"Hagel, could I have a word?"_

_"Sure," Harry followed the Puff._

_"Andromeda took pictures of the Dern in the Gladrags store."_

_"Good."_

_"If you say so. I don't like the vigilantism."_

_"So why don't you go to Dumbledore? You are the Headboy, so you are Black's equal in authority," Harry pointed out._

_Ted looked annoyed at the implied challenge. _

_"It concerns her family, so I guess it is only fair that she should have more of an input."_

_"There you go then."_

_"OK here comes McLaggen with his cronies. See you later."_

_"What was it about?" Gideon asked._

_"The ongoing investigation," Harry didn't like to keep the twins in the dark, but he was not the only one concerned. They had agreed to keep the whole thing among themselves when Andromeda had consented to help. _

_Harry acknowledged to himself that Ted's misgivings were justified. Now that the trap was about to snap at the guilty couple he too felt uneasy. So many things could have gone wrong. Both or either of Blacks could have succumbed to their infamous temper. McLaggen could do something truly stupid. And then there was the fact that both marauders insisted on their right to participate in the final showdown. They all had agreed to intervene before things get too NC-17, but even so James and Sirius were only eleven. And Dern was going to change into a thirteen year old! What a disgusting pair of perverts they were, really. Harry sighed. At least Martin, having procured the Veriaserum, had given a reluctant green light to their plan. For once Harry was glad to cede the authority to an actual adult. _

_In the event, it was not a Black, but the Headboy, who went berserk on a hapless McLaggen. They were all concealed in the Greenhouse One inside the invisible marquee Martin had managed to set up only a couple of hours before. Thanks to the cloaked marauders tailing Dern they were aware of the timing of the couple's rendezvous. Two of the latest state of the art Van der Velde wizarding cameras had been strategically placed. Everything was going according to the plan, except that McLaggen decided to leave Narcissa for later and told Dern to change into Andromeda first. They had barely the time to capture the transformation process on camera, though. As soon as the two started their dominant/submissive games Ted Tonks bellowed with rage, rushed to the bewildered Gryffindor's keeper and knocked him out cold without least help of magic. _

_"Well," Martin sighed, "maybe it is just as well." He looked at the snivelling faux Headgirl. "Miss Dern, we have enough evidence to not only ensure your expulsion from Hogwarts but also to launch a formal Auror investigation into your mother's illegal trade of restricted substances. And yours as well, since you are an adult. As for the rest of it… If you exploits were to be publicised the McLaggens would make sure that you took all the blame. Wulfric here is only fifteen…"_

_"No, please…" _

_"I am not interested in your family involvement in the black market. I am here to investigate the attempt on my son's life. If you agree to a Veritaserum questioning, I won't inform the Auror Office about your mother's illegal dealings with Polyjuice."_

_"I'll do it!" the girl nodded eagerly (the most incongruous expression on Andromeda's face, Harry mused) but there was something akin to satisfaction flickered in her eyes. Odd. She should have been more afraid about the prospect. Harry looked at Martin wondering is he caught it to, but his father's implacable expression was otherwise unreadable. _

_Just in case Polyjuice might interfere with the truth serum they waited until the girl changed back, taking care to catch the reverse process on camera as well. McLaggen was still out cold. Andromeda meanwhile confiscated the small-size nightie and a pouch where Dern kept the heirs. They had been all carefully catalogued and tagged. All in all the couple had collected hairs of about a dozen girls. Harry noticed that James relaxed visibly when he realised that Lily's hairs weren't part of the collection. Apparently she was too young even for a pervert like McLaggen. _

_Finally Dern was back to her ugly self and Martin could start the interrogation. _

_"Miss Dern, who sabotaged Harry's broom?" _

_"No one," despite everything, the girl sounded almost triumphant. _

_Harry stared at Martin. Was the serum malfunctioning?_

_"What happened to Harry's broom during the match with Ravenclaw?"_

_"Nothing," this time she sounded a bit less sure. _

_Martin gave the girl a thin smile._

_"Whose broom Harry rode at the last match with Ravenclaw?"_

_"Wulf's," she was crying now in earnest._

_"So he sabotaged his own broom. Clever."_

_Harry had to admit it was a neat trick. Scrimgeor was likely to ask McLaggen only if he had sabotaged Harry's broom, after all. The family lawyer present at the interview would have ensured that there weren't too many follow-up questions. And their brooms were nearly identical. Same year models in a similar condition…_

_"How did he do it?"_

_"He applied the Universal Brooms' patent charm on it."_

_Martin frowned._

_"The Universal sells hurtling hexes?!"_

_"They call their modification of it 'The Speed Restriction Charm'. They advertise it as a caution charm for beginners. Parents would put it on their kid's first broom. Then if the kid flies too fast the broom goes all jerky so they'd know it's time to slow down." _

_"I've never heard of anything so idiotic," James commented. "No wonder the Universal are on their last legs." _

_"Who switched the brooms?"_

_"I did. Wulf created a diversion when he insulted the Claws' keeper."_

_"Inspired," Martin sounded almost admiring. "All he did was to apply a legally purchased magical product to his own broomstick. He can even claim he was going to use it himself. Keepers don't usually fly at the speed limit. The only illegal part in the entire debacle was yours."_

_"Please, you promised," Dern was bleating now. _

_"Well, for my part I would be satisfied to leave the matter for the Headmaster to deal with. Miss Black?"_

_"Oh, I concur. The Aurors involvement would mean the most unwelcome exposure. I hope my sister will never hear of it, much less find herself amidst such squalid scandal."_

_"Well then. Let's revive the Casanova and go to the Headmaster."_

_"I don't get it," Harry was saying as they were returning to the castle. "How that Restriction Charm can be legally sold, if it is really a Hurtling Hex, and how come no one put two and two together after the incident."_

_"Well, we don't have advanced consumer protection legislation, alas. As for the rest…you are the one who are Quidditch-mad," Martin pointed out. "Why didn't you spot it?"_

_"I don't browse Which Broom section for beginners."_

_"There you go then. Flitwick did say that the person who activated the hex weren't the same one who crafted it, but it didn't help us much."_

_"Ha!" Sirius exclaimed. "There goes your theory that James and I couldn't do it. Even a first year can activate a muss-produced charm!" _

_"I'd no idea it rankled so much. Next time someone's killed I'll be sure to denounce you."_

Harry was returning to Gryffindor with James. Everyone else had gone to Dumbledore, Sirius having insisted that as the future head of the family he had the right to be present. Harry himself had no desire to interact with the old wizard more than strictly necessary, and James seemed to think along the same lines.

"Why did you have to involve the Headgirl at all?" James asked eventually. "What with your old man being on board you could manage without her help, surely?"

"Well, I'd look out of place in the Gladrags' lingerie section, for one."

"Not as out of place as Dern did, I wager," James snorted. "Seriously, why you insisted on her taking part?"

"Well, in some way because I think she deserved to know. But mostly because I hoped that she'd manage to keep Sirius in check. And don't tell me that you would have. Not in a situation like this."

"I suppose," James said slowly. "But why do you care if he did something stupid?"

"I don't," Harry lied. "But I didn't want him to mess up my investigation."

"Hmm. A valid reason," James sounded downright sarcastic. "You tell the password. I can't say it out loud without vomiting."


End file.
